


Willow and Steel

by arysthaeniru



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, Nymphs & Dryads, War Crimes, past!fuji/yuki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysthaeniru/pseuds/arysthaeniru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukimura runs. It is not what would have done in the past, but after burning a forest to the ground to get to one troop of men and laughing over the rivers of blood that came from the carnage of war, he doesn't want to mimic the past. He will do whatever it takes to atone for his sins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Willow and Steel

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to my beta Ssumiya, and the people who patiently listened to me rant about this. Warnings in place for graphic violence and character death. 
> 
> This is also quite long, so maybe go to the bathroom, grab a drink or something.

In the old world, there was a children’s song that went a little like this:

  
_The living trees,_  
 _The living trees,_  
 _Are living strong and awesome_  
 _Their living strength,_  
 _Their living power,_  
 _The only rulers of their kingdom_

It was a sentiment that was gradually being forgotten as people abandoned their hoes and their ploughs and headed to the city, for a chance for a better life. But the trees never stopped being awe-inspiring, even if human interest in their mysteries slowly faded. 

-

When Yukimura’s shadow started completely covering the vines and overgrown grass he was hacking out of the garden, that was when Yukimura first looked up from his task. He frowned, as he noticed the sun starting to set. It would be dark soon, and he had to get himself ready for the night. It was probably best to stop here for today. 

Glancing around the entire lot, Yukimura smiled, with a tired pride. In one day, he’d managed to strip the entire overgrown, messy plot, and turn it into fresh soil that would be good for planting after a little water and some fertilizer. He just had a little area of overgrowth left and then he could start the tenuous process of planting the huge bundle of seeds he had inside his pack. 

He pulled off his gloves and the apron, to protect his shirt and breeches from the dirt, folded them neatly, then placed them outside the slightly dilapidated house. He grimaced as he pushed the door open, and it creaked open. He added oil to the mental list of things he’d have to barter for, once he got around to heading over to the small village, which was deeper inside the valley. It was a long list, frankly.

The previous tenants of this house had evidently abandoned the property a _long_ time ago, since there was nothing left inside that was vaguely usable, which meant that he had to purchase a lot of things soon, to make it more habitable. Yukimura could only thank his lucky stars that the well had still worked functionally, after a decent amount of pumping. 

He rummaged through the pack that he had brought here, and frowned at the amount of food he had left. There was only one large loaf of bread and a bit of cheese and three pieces of fruit. That would probably last him through tonight and tomorrow morning...but he’d definitely need to either look through the forest for a fruit tree or make the trip down to the town. 

With a heavy sigh, Yukimura ripped off a small amount of bread, took two pieces of fruit and quickly ate them, as he wrapped a shawl around his shoulders. It wasn’t nearly enough to compensate for the energy he’d expended today, but he needed food tomorrow as well. Swallowing the plain, slightly stale bread was difficult, but he washed it down with some of the remaining juice that he had, and it felt a little easier.

He could feel the chill creeping in from the outside. With one of the house’s walls falling off, and the holes in the roof, he was going to freeze overnight if he didn’t make a fire. But that required firewood. 

Yukimura pulled his weary bones up and glanced at the rusty axe in the corner of the dirty walls. It was all sorts of useless against plants, as he’d discovered while hacking through the undergrowth surrounding his cottage. His hands had been better than the axe, in the end. Besides, the best sort of wood was supposed to be the dried parts that fell off the tree, not the damp and living trees. Anyway, it was a thick forest, there was bound to be plenty of fallen wood around. 

He shivered again, pulled the shawl a little tighter around his sharp shoulders and walked outside, his small feet crunching across the thin layer of debris from last year’s dead leaves. The remnants of winter were leaving the land, but it was still bitterly cold at night and the plants weren’t still properly growing yet. The animals still hibernated and it was practically silent in the countryside, not even the chirp of a bird disturbed the clear air’s peace. Winter still had its grip on the world.

Bending over to pick up the flaky, dry sticks of wood hurt Yukimura’s bones and muscles, but he forced himself to keep walking. While this was more physical exercise than he’d done in some time, he’d used to be able to endure far more painful things. For all of his delicate appearance, his hands were harshly calloused with the hard work he’d applied for all of his life, and he refused to break now, as he reached the end of his twenties. 

Thirty wasn’t supposed to be old, but when most of his friends were now dead or would be dead in the next three years...well, Yukimura had fled to the country for a reason. People lived longer out with the wild, though they worked harder. It was something about not being crammed in small places, with high chances of illness spreading and something about being able to breathe the fresh air, not the polluted smoke that came from the factories of steam. 

Yukimura took a small, relaxed breath of the chilly air. It was fresh and crisp and reminded Yukimura why he was working so hard here. He was freer here.

There wasn’t much firewood around the chilly forest. Most of the tree’s dead parts had dropped during autumn, and had decomposed over the course of winter. “Are there are any large branches you have for me?” asked Yukimura, to the trees cheerfully, as the shadows started getting longer, and his pile of sticks didn’t seem to be increasing. 

There was no response. Well, he hadn’t been expecting one, anyway, he just had to say something every now and then, or else he’d go mad. “I guess not.” he said, as it started to be more difficult to see the light streaming through the cracks. “Well, bye.” he said, waving cheerily, as he walked back to his cottage.

As if reacting to his words, the trees rustled back in response, in the slightly nippy breeze that followed Yukimura’s departure from the thick undergrowth. 

The fire he made inside his house was small, but cosy. Since the bed that the previous tenants had left him was dirty and broken, Yukimura just took out the sleeping pack that he’d used on the long march here and curled up in front of the fireplace, feeling the heat warm his skin as he took a little wine from his flask to sip on, and went to sleep. 

-

His dreams were filled with fire and death and blood, and the world collapsing around him and Yukimura running from everything. He hated those dreams the most; feeling so hopeless made him want to curl up and die. The dreams were crafted from memories and despair and imagination wound together, until Yukimura could not tell them apart, as he tossed and turned, in a cold sweat. 

And then he saw the familiar streets he knew, and the soldiers he’d marched with, and the futile shots they took at the enemy and the houses smouldering, from the flames licking the white walls, turning them black and brown and grey with heat. And he saw, amongst the dead bodies that lined the streets, the curled up brunet, with his perpetually closed eyes around the small young girl with blue-black hair, looking all the world like they could have been sleeping--

Yukimura woke up with a start, panting to calm his quickly beating heart down. The fire from the fireplace had long since died, but behind his eyes, he still saw the red of the city’s flames and the two vulnerable bodies. He sobbed, miserably, and pressed the blankets to his face.

“They’re safer now, they’re safer now.” he whispered to himself, as he cradled his head in his hands. He had to believe that. He had to believe that they didn’t resent him for leaving and that they were happy now. 

“I missss you!” the wind whispered and Yukimura whirled around him towards the crumbling wall. In the dark night, he could see nothing except the figures of the trees, tall and proud. He was imagining things; how could the wind sound like his dead sister? “Don’t be stupid, Seiichi.” he muttered to himself, and curled back up, to try and sleep again.

-

He managed to gain a dreamless sleep after that, and woke up in the morning with a crick in his back but otherwise rested. Still, he couldn’t let it hinder the jobs he needed to do today, and stumbled out into the cold, bare-foot, to gather the chilly water to wash and drink. Pumping the well in the morning was a great way to wake him up, even though every part of his body protested to the harsh treatment. And the water here was so clean and fresh. He could taste the tang of the minerals in the water that told him that it wasn’t polluted, something that Yukimura could barely remember.

He dressed himself again, and pulled the overalls back on to struggle with the last bits of foliage left in the lot that surrounded the house. As he ploughed and struggled with the thorns, his mind wandered. He wondered about who had used to live in this house, honestly. There was only a single bed, and disgusting as it had looked, covered in mould and years of dirt accumulation, it was unused, if the distribution of stuffing was any indication. 

After three years of using the same rolled-up mattress on the road, Yukimura knew how a used mattress and a new one looked, and this was definitely unused. And the kitchen itself was another thing that looked almost unused, caked with dust and hosting an ant infestation, that Yukimura had instantly killed. An uninhabited house right on the edge of the forest, far away from the rest of the residents of this valley. Who had built it and why?

It was a curious house filled with unanswerable questions, but it suited Yukimura’s purposes and nobody wanted it, so Yukimura didn’t question his luck too much. With a final grunt, he pulled the last of the plants and weeds out of the ground and stared at the huge pile of green thorns and flowers that lay in the middle of his lot. In a few days, they would dry out, and he could use them to lengthen the burning time of his evening fires. Would the breeze blow away the plants...? He could only hope not, because even the house was just as likely to let the plants fly away, with one wall rotten away entirely. 

With a slight sigh, as he peeled off his gloves, Yukimura glanced up at the sun. Its rays warmed his back, but it was still cold, in the morning breeze. “I have to go find food soon, huh?” he asked, as he ran his hands through his slightly damp hair. 

Was he ready to see civilized people again...? _Their_ faces flashed in his mind and he shuddered, as he remembered the smell of blood and how he’d shouted and screamed in fear and shock at all of the people who were supposed to have protected _them_ when he couldn’t. “No.” he murmured, quietly, as he placed a hand to his temples, with a pained expression. 

He got up, grabbed his canteen from inside the house, crushing a cockroach along the way, and filled it up with some water from the pump. “Alright.” he said to himself, as he glanced up at the sun. Midday. He’d have to come back a little before sundown, or he’d not be able to prepare for bed properly. 

Did he need the sword curled up at the bottom of his pack...? But merely the thought of picking up that weapon again made Yukimura feel nauseous, to his very core. Had he never picked up that weapon and gone to war, _they_ would have been safe. All it had brought was death and he would kill more now, if he took it with him to the forest. He would just have to cope as best he could, if he stumbled upon some stirring animals in this forest. He was here to try to live again, not kill more. 

Yukimura clicked his tongue in annoyance, pushed away from his house and strode with purpose to the forest. It was cooler here, with a green overcast set on top of his skin and a sort of muffled quiet settling over his skin. It was peaceful, even more so than his huge lot and house, which was quiet in its own right. 

“Hmm, left or right?” he murmured as he glanced around the forest. He didn’t really want to go too deep into the forest today, so it was best to dart around the outskirts and hope for the best. He whistled as he took the path to the left, and strode through the crunchy debris, careful to not trip over the tree roots that stuck up everywhere. 

“Well,” he murmured, as he leant down upon feeling a snarl of burrs attack to his breeches. “If worst comes to worst, I can make thistle soup.” he said, with a laugh, as he took note of the location of the gnarl of thistles. He didn’t actually know how to make it, but he remembered vaguely that Private Marui had known how to....

That wasn’t too useful right now, anyway. Yukimura hummed as he strolled through the forest, as the light slowly started to turn to one side. It was nice to be here, but the fact that he had been walking for a very long time and had not seen a single fruit tree or even a tree that looked like it could bear fruit once spring arrived, was worrying. 

As his shadows started to get long and the light showed tints of orange, Yukimura growled and ran a hand through his hair. “No food.” he said out loud, as he glanced up at the darkening sky, with a slightly despairing look. He would have to go hungry tonight and go down to the village tomorrow, or he would starve. At least there was plenty of water and he could make himself feel less hungry through that. 

He jogged back through the trees, out into the clear land of the valley, and noticed his house in the distance, as a black splodge on the edge of a large roll downwards towards the pasture lands. It would be a long walk back home and it would be dark by then. Pressing his lips together, Yukimura started the immense trek home, picking up firewood along the way.

-

His night was restless from both his hunger and dreams of being drowned by the pale brunet, with a perfectly angelic smile on his face. “You deserve this.” whispered the brunet, as he dunked Yukimura’s head in the water again. “You let us die in pain and misery. Do you know how much Minoru cried for you?”

Yukimura opened his mouth to respond and he plunged into the water again, as Fuji’s hands squeezed around his neck to prevent him from speaking and to make him swallow some water. As his head was pulled back from the water, coughing and choking, Fuji pulled him close. “I used to love you.” he whispered, acid and bitter.

He woke up with a start, his eyes darting up to the stars through the holes in the roof and he placed his arms around his knees, to pull himself into a tight ball.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even dismiss that as his imagination and his guilt surfacing. It was something that Fuji, who got extremely vengeful when things went wrong, would have done, had he survived. Was it truly Fuji haunting his dreams with punishment? “I’m sorry, Fuji.” he whispered, miserably. “For all it’s worth now, I’ve never been more sorry.”

There was no response, only a slight breeze through the forest, that sounded like chiming laughter. He hadn’t been expecting much else, but as he glanced up to the hole in the roof, the stars twinkled down at him. There were no memories tied in with the stars, just peace. He didn’t know if that was more or less empty for his heart. 

Yukimura grimaced softly and pulled his blanket around him tightly, to try and sleep until the dawn. 

-

The morning came as it did every day. His impassioned cries the night before had not changed the fact that getting up at dawn, meant being freezing cold. He swore slightly as he hopped out of his house with bare feet to get water from the well. He’d used to be a bad morning waker, but when the sun peeked in through your walls and the cold managed to get to your toes, you woke up fairly quickly. 

And pumping water, first thing in the morning, as he used his muscles and his hard work and strength always managed to bring his addled mind away from sleep. As the water started welling up to the surface. Yukimura’s face became colder and harder. Today was the day he’d have to head down to the village...

He didn’t want to. Call him a coward, an idiot, but it was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want to see people or do anything involving people. He hauled up the bucket, grimly, and dragged it back to the house, with a significant amount of effort. He’d filled it a little too much today. 

He almost tripped over a bundle as he made his way back and Yukimura frowned at it. Quickly placing the bucket down in a corner of the house, he walked back outside and picked it up, unwrapping the dirty cloth. Inside the bundle was a huge amount of fruit and some sort of root vegetable, that bulged with its own mass. He pulled away at the tough skin of the fruit and stared at the yellow, juicy insides.

He was _very_ hungry. But could he eat this? Was it safe to eat? Yukimura took a small bite from the yellow one, mulling the tangy taste in his mouth. The texture was a little unappetizing, but the taste of the juice was more than enough to keep him munching. And he wasn’t dying yet. With a slight smile, Yukimura picked up the entire fruit, pulled off all of the skin, and devoured it quickly, washing it down with a little of the fresh well water. 

It wasn’t until he finished the fruit that he sobered up and came to a horrible realization. Someone had left that outside his door for him. Which meant that someone was around here knew that he existed and was feeding him, to keep him alive. He bolted out of the door, looked around the empty valley and then slowly turned his gaze towards the forest. There was no breeze in the air, and the forest looked eerily still. How had they known he was here? That was the scary part. He’d bypassed the village altogether, skirting around the outskirts of it when he had arrived, so unless someone had managed to watch him when he’d come in, there shouldn’t have been a way to find out he was here. 

Yukimura shuddered again and stared out uneasily at the empty landscape around him. Nobody was here now. He almost wanted to stay here, all day in the cold, to see if someone would eventually show up, but he had too many other things to do...

“HELLO?” he called instead, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice and make it carry. There was no response, as expected. Yukimura drew his hands around his arms and rubbed his arms to protect from the cold. There was still no response, but Yukimura didn’t want to wait for one, as he turned back to his house. He’d have to go down to the village eventually, but he could put it off for a little longer now, at least.

-

It wasn’t until that Yukimura was halfway through planting his seeds into the tilled soil and watering them, that he realized that the fruit had to have come from somewhere. And he had seen very few trees amongst civilized people, on his long trek up to his abandoned house, through the valley beneath him. He glanced up towards the forest and bit his lips, before glancing down at his dirty gloved hands. “So, there are fruit trees in the forest.” he said, with a slight frown. “Maybe...”

He increased his speed of planting, being a little more haphazard with his watering, as he worked quickly. To his relief, he managed to finish planting by midday and as he stopped for a lunch break, with that root vegetable that Yukimura couldn’t place, his eyes drifted to the forest again. 

“So...” he murmured, as he thought over what was in his bag, “I don’t have any string. And scattering food or those weeds behind me is a waste of resources. And there are few rocks in this part of the valley, seeing as this land is so fertile.” Talking aloud made him feel a little more like Fuji or Minoru or even a friend from the army was going to interrupt with a good idea, sometime soon. “So...I am going to be going into the forest without any way of keeping my path.”

That sounded like a bad idea aloud. It really did. But Yukimura wasn’t going to go down to the village for resources until it was completely unavoidable. And he couldn’t count on whomever had brought him food today to continue to bring him food. And he had until sundown....

“Just don’t get lost.” he said, as he got up, brushing the crumbs away from his lap. “Not too difficult, is it?”

-

It was easier said than done, however, as Yukimura quickly found out, around an hour later, as he stared at the fifth tree that looked exactly the same as the one he’d seen before and the fact that he could no longer tell which direction was ‘out’. 

“It doesn’t help that none of you have leaves right now, you know.” he said, with an annoyed sigh, as he brushed his hand over one of the willow trees, with a tired sigh, as he let it drop to his side. 

“I _am_ lost.” he said, finally, giving in, as he looked around the small clearing. The trees were mostly barren of their leaves, but it didn’t mean that they weren’t thick and easy to get lost in. The sun beat down on Yukimura’s hair and neck cruelly, and with a sigh, he slid down underneath the shade of a barren willow tree. 

His legs still ached from the walk yesterday and his back had pains down his spine. He was physically tired and moving from his spot, now that he knew for sure that he was lost, seemed like a stupid idea. He had to wait for nightfall now. His house was to the east, which meant he would have to walk the opposite direction of the sunset when it came. Even Yukimura couldn’t get lost while following the sunset. 

He’d never been very good at directions, something that Fuji had always liked to mock him for, when they’d used to sit and tend to the flowers in their garden, as children. He’d often got lost in town, though mostly it was because he got easily distracted by shiny new things that people had brought into the city, such as the guns and the new washing machines and the strange moving pictures. Still, Fuji had taken delight in the occasions where Yukimura’s directions had failed him.

Theirs had always been a competitive relationship, though they had always pretended to be angelically friendly in front of anyone who’d been watching. Yukimura had won at most everything, from running, to studies, to manners, to speed or reading or eating. These broad sweeping victories had meant that Fuji relished in his own victories, no matter how small, with the sharp humour and the dark wit that Yukimura had enjoyed. It had always been the little things with Fuji....

It was easy to remember Fuji’s little traits. How he’d always wanted a cactus, something so spiky and ugly that couldn’t even grow properly in a land that rained as much as their own. The way that he relished spicy food and always emptied chilli powder onto his food in a clockwise direction. The way that his eyes crinkled when he was actually happy, and the fake smile that tugged at his lips when he’d rather murder someone. The protective way that his arm curled around Minoru and Yuuta when they were being targeted for their reticent personalities. 

Fuji had been all soft subtleties and veiled smirks and little stabs at your sense of superiority. He’d always been pleased when he could teach Yukimura something, even if Yukimura never retained it. He remembered with a start, that Fuji had once taught him how to use the stars for navigation, as they’d perched on the top of Fuji’s roof, one midnight when they had been teenagers, before the smoke had covered the sky. 

“And if you bounce off Cassiopeia, you’ll find Perseus, which will take you towards the mainland.” Fuji said, his voice soft and wistful, as he traced the stars in the sky. Yukimura remembered with a start that at the time, he’d been so sleepy and bored, that he’d headlocked the slighter Fuji until they’d both fallen asleep on the roof later.

But Fuji was a sight for sore eyes so Yukimura didn’t follow the script which he remembered. “And to go home?” asked Yukimura instead, propping his head in his hands. 

Fuji turned to him and smirked. “I already told you. Don’t tell me your short-term memory is that bad.”

“But tell me again.” said Yukimura, with a quirk of his eyebrows. “For clarity. You speak so high-pitched and like a girl sometimes, and then I just can’t hear you. It’s too high for my ears.” he teased, gently, as he tugged one of Fuji’s stick-straight strands of hair, pressing against Fuji’s warm, if slightly bony side.

Fuji didn’t smile like he normally would have. “Were our cries for you to come back too high-pitched for you to hear? Is that why you didn’t come for us when the buildings were falling?”

Yukimura swallowed hesitantly, as Fuji’s eyes opened and he saw the chinks of blue, that were so similar to Yukimura’s own eyes. They had been called little angels when they were younger, for their unnatural blue eyes and wide, wide smiles. “I didn’t get your letters. I didn’t know about the situation.” he tried and Fuji’s gaze just drilled into his soul. 

“We were burning. Minoru screamed your name until the end. And I never went to go find Yuuta. I just stayed with her, because you weren’t there. But you didn’t have the decency to go and look for Yuuta after this? You just ran away. Again. Coward.” accused Fuji, and with every word, Yukimura felt a sharp dagger dig into his side. He curled up a little, and shut his eyes, relishing and simultaneously loathing the pain. 

“Fuji...” he murmured, before he pulled his head up as he surveyed his dark surroundings and Fuji’s furious eyes. “You’re just a dream. You’re just a dream. You’re dead now. I led to your death. I know. Which means you can’t be here.”

And with that realization, Yukimura’s eyes flickered open. He breathed heavily, as he unwrapped from the tight ball he’d wrapped into while sleeping. And then he realized. His eyes had not needed to adjust from his dream to the reality. Nightfall had long since hit the forest and Yukimura was well and truly lost. 

He pulled himself closer to a ball, already feeling the chilly breezes zip past his skin. He hadn’t even brought his shawl with him, so convinced he had been in his ability to stay on track. “Fuck, I’m an idiot!” he shouted, before tipping his head back against the tree, letting his head thud against the willow bark, with a frustrated growl. 

“You couldn’t have taught me how to get home, Fuji? Are you actually keen to see me die as well? I’d think you wouldn’t want me with you, after all I have done. Or is this your way of owning me, forever and ever?” he demanded to the skies. There was no response, as the curve of the Milky Way just twinkled at him more. He wasn’t expecting one either. Fuji was something best left to his dreams. 

He was likely to freeze now, even if the hunger didn’t get to his head first, and by the time the sun would rise again, he would arrive home worse for the wear and unable to upkeep his plants. There was no one to take care of him if he caught a flu. No Minoru with blankets and useless apothecary medicines, no Yuuta as the only one that Yukimura trusted to nurse him back to life and no Fuji to try and feed Yukimura wasabi instead of chicken soup. If he caught a flu, he would have to suffer it out by himself. 

“There is no way where this ends well.” commented Yukimura, with a displeased frown. His legs still ached, even after his nap. He wondered whether the long journey across the furloughs of land, as he’d walked away from where Minoru and Fuji were buried, would forever weigh on his legs. 

He shut his eyes momentarily, before opening them again and pushing himself to his feet. If his chance of survival was low either way, he preferred to move around and keep his internal temperature high. Picking up his pack again, Yukimura started walked away from the willow tree, and towards the closest path out of the small clearing. 

Almost instantly, he heard a soft rustle from behind him. Yukimura swung around, his lips parting as he stared into the dark forest. He couldn’t see much.The light from the stars and moon was just minimal compared to the power of the sun, so the forest was still dark and menacing despite the bright night. 

Still, that sound hadn’t been the rustle of leaves. There weren’t enough evergreen trees in this area for any sort of leaflike rustle. Which meant that it was either an animal or someone else. 

Some would call it paranoia. Others would call it the soldier’s affliction, to see danger everywhere. But Yukimura called it a gut feeling. There was someone out there, not something. “Who’s there?” he called, tilting his chin up and placing his hands up, in a pacifying gesture. He had no weapon, and he didn’t feel the need to resort to violence anyway. Violence had done nothing for him. 

The forest just rustled again and Yukimura stepped forward, looking around the forest with open eyes. Was it really his imagination? Or were they very good at hiding? “I won’t hurt you.” he said, softly and sweetly, with the same tone of voice he’d used for coaxing small children out of trees and convincing adults to reduce his punishment time for backtalk. 

Finally, a head peeked out of the trees and Yukimura’s very blood chilled. The first thing he noticed were the closed eyes, and those thick long lashes that rested on well-tanned skin and straight-as-an-arrow brown hair that framed a sharp face. Yukimura stepped back, involuntarily. But he was awake and Fuji was dead. “I’m dreaming.” he said, automatically, but as he continued to look, none of the details matched up. 

For one, Fuji had always been a little shorter than Yukimura and this person was definitely much taller. Not to mention, Fuji’s shoulders tapered down, instead of having a broad quality to them, which was why Fuji had frequently been mistaken for a girl. Besides...Fuji didn’t usually have branches growing out his wrists and leaves growing from his neck.

“You aren’t dreaming.” said the not-Fuji figure, with a voice that sounded like plants rustling in the breeze and the deep, warm loam of Earth. 

Yukimura stepped forward again, forcing his breathing to calm as he looked over the figure again. There were branches growing from the figure’s arms and legs, and small, baby leaves that spotted his neck and feet. And with a small start, Yukimura realized that the straight strands that Yukimura had mistaken for hair, were actually the fine strands of nassella, which covered the midlands in summer. 

“You’re a dryad.” said Yukimura, incredulously, with a peculiar smile reaching his face. He’d only heard of them in folklore and well, they’d always been female. Still, he could barely deny what was in front of him. He reached forward, to run his fingers down one of the branches that came out of the dryad’s arms and felt a little surprised, to feel the same texture as bark, but none of the splinters that accompanied most trees. 

“Would you like to leave the forest?” asked the figure again, with the voice that made Yukimura feel calm, like when he was lazing around on a summer afternoon on hills of endless green, and Yukimura nodded, wordlessly. The figure started walking, away from where Yukimura had been heading, and he cursed a little, to himself. He would have gotten himself even more lost and died. 

He strode after the tall figure, noting that from a close proximity, he wasn’t that much taller than Yukimura. “What’s your name? Mine is Yukimura Seiichi.” asked Yukimura, curiously, unable to really take his eyes from the dryad. This was so surreal. 

“I don’t not have a name.” said the dryad, with a nod. “Names are human things. Most other creatures know ourselves and each other, already. We do not need useless things.”

If that wasn’t an outright dismissal of human culture, Yukimura was a centaur. Did those even exist? He hadn’t thought so, but dryads were supposed to be creatures of folklore too. Still, Yukimura wasn’t entirely too fond of humans at that point, so he didn’t say anything against the dryad’s words, just raised an eyebrow. 

“Why did you help me, then? If your opinion of humans is so low?” asked Yukimura, curiously, trying to stop the shivers that ran down his back from the cold creeping into his very skin. 

The dryad was silent for some time, as he offered a hand to Yukimura, so they could easier ford a small streamlet through the forest that Yukimura definitely hadn’t seen on his way here. wait, if he so disliked humans, why would he be helping Yukimura? What if the dryad wasn’t leading him out of the forest? “You have not cut a single tree in your time here. Instead, you bring new life, which even I, with centuries of existence, cannot recognize. You are not like your compatriots. 

Yukimura’s heart felt it had been punched straight through, at that answer. He was silent, as he walked after the dryad. He didn’t recognize anything around the area. There was nothing that looked like the way he’d gotten into the forest. Perhaps the dryad was lying about leading him out of the forest. Still, what reason did a spirit have to do this? If he’d wanted Yukimura to die, he would have left Yukimura to wander around the empty forest. 

“You do not agree with my assessment.” stated the dryad, with an arch of his eyebrow. 

Yukimura just pursed his lips. “Perhaps I am good to you, but to my own people, my crimes are that of a monster.” he said, finally, as he ignored the dryad’s hands to leap across another small brook. His legs ached, as he landed on one knee, and pulling himself up after the jarring jump was a monumental effort. 

The dryad was watching his back, as they kept walking; Yukimura could feel the intense gaze and he turned around, with an annoyed look. “What?” he snapped. 

“You’re angry.” said the dryad, sounding a little bemused and Yukimura blinked a little, in confusion, before laughing, dryly. 

“How long has it been since you actually met a human?” he asked, pausing a little in his tracks, until the dryad was at his side again. 

The dryad smiled and Yukimura just blinked softly at how tender it was. It wasn’t what you’d expect from a centuries-old spirit of a _tree_. “It has been fifty summers and one winter since I have actually interacted with a human. Beyond providing you with some fruit this morning.” it admitted, and there was something close to shame there. Yukimura laughed, it was rather strange to behold. 

“Well, I don’t know about most humans, but for me, I switch emotions quite rapidly.” said Yukimura, with a smile. “You might have to get used to that.” The dryad looked slightly surprised and Yukimura grinned, slightly mischievously guessing exactly what it was thinking. “I’m not just letting you escort me out and then forget the fact that you exist, not after you were kind enough to feed me.” he said, decisively. Not to mention that the dryad was just what Yukimura needed. A non-human presence to talk to. Add that to the fact that he was a sentient plant... 

Was his thought process too close to what he had been? He had collected valuable people while in the army, and this felt a little similar to that, since having a dryad on his side while living alone near a forest, seemed like a very good idea. Still, he was more fascinated in the dryad than he had been in those he had collected previously. 

Yukimura shook his ideas away, and smiled. “Also, since we are going to be friends, you ought to have a name. Because unfortunately I am human, and in our culture, names are a sign of politeness. If you don’t call someone by their name, it’s considered rude.”

The dryad looked very bemused, before laughing softly, with a sound that sounded like two or three voices were layered together, like the flowers swaying in the breeze. Yukimura couldn’t help but smile, widely. “Yanagi Renji.” he said, easily. He’d found the dryad while leaning a willow tree and his voice sounded like lotus petals on the wind. “Your name is Yanagi Renji. So don’t forget it.”

“Yanagi Renji.” said the dryad, rolling the words over his tongue, like it was tasting the sound on his lips. “I will not forget.” it said, as Yukimura started to see the trees thinning out in front of him. 

“How do I get in contact with you again?’ asked Yukimura, curiously, as he paused at the edge of the forest. His house was a lot closer than it had been the last time that he’d wandered into the forest. “Just call for you?”

Yanagi nodded, softly. “Just call for me from inside the forest and I will hear you.” Convenient. To have a dryad at his beck and call. Yukimura swallowed, trying to push away those thoughts, with a grateful bow. 

“Thank you.” said Yukimura, softly, before he turned back away from the forest, feeling the gaze of the dryad follow him, as he left. 

-

His sleep that night was free of Fuji and Minoru. Free of most anything, and the sun coming into his face in the morning was nothing but disappointment. For a few, blissful hours, he’d been able to escape his mistakes. Yukimura groused a little, as he unwrapped his shawl and darted outside to the well, to gather his water, bouncing on the spot. It was absolutely freezing and his legs still hurt, but he was alive. 

He’d left the forest. As he was pumping, his gaze turned towards the forest and he frowned. Did he...? 

No, he decided, quickly, he had other work to do. And the dryad probably did as well. He gathered his water, ate a little, before starting work on watering his plants, which didn’t take very long, even with Yukimura being a lot more careful than he had, the day before. Now that his food source for the coming months was well underway, and his current survival was being funded by the dryad, Yukimura could turn to the slightly less essential things, like the state of the little cottage. 

He wiped back his hair, as he removed the gloves from his slight damp hands and surveyed the house with a displeased frown. 

The house was a mess. The roof needed to be completely scrapped and re-made, to get rid of the gaping hole. That would probably require weaving either reeds, which were waterproof or willow branches, because willow continued to grow even after being cut and would create the illusion of his house being alive. The walls needed to be patched up, considering one wall didn’t exist anymore and the others all had small holes and gaps, where the breeze and rain could come in. That would require wood, nails and a hammer, none of which were items he had on him. The windows were hanging on their hinges with such a frailty that Yukimura was sure that a strong breeze would knock them off. That would require hinges and some sort of hammer device?

Yukimura had never been good at fixing up things. He’d always been doing the breaking and the wheedling himself out of trouble. Now, he had to face up to the consequences of breaking things and had to learn how to fix them. 

He exhaled softly, as he continued to stare at the house. That was just fixing up the outside, but the inside was barren. He needed a table and at least two chairs. Maybe a shelf, so he could actually take out everything from his pack. Saucepans and dishes and cutlery were necessary, so he could actually eat like a civilized human being, instead of struggling to not spill juice on his clothes. Some new clothes and maybe an actual bed, instead of the rotting mattress. He need something to clean the house’s interior too. It was more dirty than the actual soil and garden outside, which irked Yukimura.

It was a long list and Yukimura could think of several more. And most of them required human presence... He glanced down at the valley beneath his feet, and the small dots of black blue and yellow against the green lands, and tightened his jaw. No. Not yet. He would deal with the problems that didn’t need human assistance first. Namely his wall and his roof. 

Placing his gloves down by the his house, he jogged over to the forest and wandered in. ‘“Yanagi?” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his sound. “Are you there?”

The forest echoed back for a few moments, but soon, the trees sounded like they were whispering, and the view of Yanagi peered out from the shadows. “Yukimura.” said Yanagi, his voice as melodic as before and Yukimura smiled involuntarily at the pleasant sound.

“Nice to see you.” he said, cheerfully. “Listen, are there any trees that had fallen or died in the past two or three days that haven’t started rotting yet? I need some wood to fix up my house before the rainy season starts. Or some willow branches that I can take to help lace up my roof.” he said, seriously. The table and the chairs could wait. Probably. 

Yanagi was silent for a few moments, tilted its head as if trying to see Yukimura differently, and smiled, softly. Good. He hoped that whatever Yanagi was seeing in Yukimura pleased the dryad; the last thing Yukimura needed to do was to anger the spirit of the forest. “There is one, yes.”

“Where? Close enough that I’ll be able to take it here?”

The dryad shook his head, minisculely and Yukimura frowned. How did he acquire the wood, then? Most people did things like transporting with a wagon and a horse, but he had neither of those and acquiring them was beyond his current capabilities. “Is there a way that I can get it here?” he asked, with a frown. Even if he cut it apart and pulled it here, part by part, he really needed large parts to be able to fix up his wall adequately. 

Yanagi promptly disappeared, leaving Yukimura feeling slightly disoriented in the middle of the clearing. Wonderful. Apparently, there was not a way for it to reach Yukimura. He ran a hand through his hair, as he stormed out of the forest, with some annoyance. Things hadn’t been going his way, lately. Ever since the war had ended and his service as a soldier had ended, everything had just gone steadily downhill. Or perhaps it had always been dismal, and he just hadn’t realized it. 

He was so tired of this. He collapsed down in the middle of his plot, staring at the damp patch of mud, where his only flowers were to grow. Sunflowers. Fuji had always hated them, where Yukimura had admired them. They had the strength to grow tall and reach for the sun, no matter what obstacles reached their path, and they were blunt and straightforward in that pursuit. Fuji had liked his plants like his people: tricky, sly and smart. Yukimura had never looked for bluntness in a person, but it was refreshing in a plant. Gardening had always supposed to relax him and not challenge him. 

Maybe he had to be a bit like the sunflower now. He’d known, from the moment he had left the city where Fuji and Minoru were interred, his life here wouldn’t be easy. The countryside lifestyle was never easy, but he would have new hope here and he could truly live. He just had to keep working hard now, so that prosperity could come later. 

Maybe he needed to bribe the dryad. But what would the spirit of a _tree_ want from Yukimura?

There was a loud crash from the forest and Yukimura darted upward to meet whatever danger was to come, and was instead greeted by large roots that gaped out of the edge of the forest. That was a dead tree. Oh. 

He grabbed his gloves, and scrambled over to the forest again, gaping at the sheer _size_ of the dead tree. He could definitely have not carried that over from some unknown location. Yanagi stood at the side of the tree and Yukimura smiled, warmly at him. “Thank you.” he said, softly, as he glanced at the tree and also, the small bundle of willow reeds that were on the top of the tree. The wall was his top priority. The tree would start rotting soon, after already being dead for a few days, which meant that he had to get it up on his house as soon as he could. 

What did he have to cut things? The axe in the corner of the cottage was going to be entirely useless. The only thing that came to mind was his sword....but he neither wanted to touch the sword, nor did he think that the sword would be able to adequately cut up the tree. 

He didn’t need to use his sword. He just needed an alternate head for the axe. “Alright, I’ll be back!” he called to Yanagi, as he jogged back to his cottage. The axe was where it had been on his first day of finding the cottage, rusted and disgusting, but the wooden handle was still usable. He pulled off the head of the axe, with a little difficulty before he started looking around the ground outside. While his own land was fairly fertile, there were still some rocks in places. He just had to find a couple of sharp ones and try to attach them to the end of the handle, with the rope that had been there before. 

By some luck, he managed to find the rocks instantly, though, attaching them would be more of a struggle. He fiddled with knots and methods to try and keep the rock on the handle, but admittedly, as he wandered back to the forest, he was having trouble. How exactly did you keep a stone tied to a stick of wood without there being a hole drilled into the middle of the axe? The dryad loomed over him, seemingly interested in what Yukimura was trying to do. 

“Would it not be more efficient to find two stones, create holes in the stones and slot them together?” asked Yanagi, quietly and Yukimura looked up, with a sharp look of interest. Well, yes that would work too, but he didn’t really have the time necessary to shape a hole into both of the sharp stones. 

“Can you make holes into stones?” asked Yukimura, curiously, as he measure out where he would need holes. “It would save me some time.”

“Trees have always been stronger than rock.” agreed Yanagi, as he picked up the two rocks, and pressed down, with his bark fingers. It seemed like both forever and just an instant. The dryad removed his fingers from the rock, and there was just enough room to be able to fit in the head of the axe. Yukimura was able to tie the axe together with a lot more ease now and smiled, widely and happily at the dryad. 

“Alright. You might not want to watch this part. I know that your compatriot is already dead, but I’ve never wanted to see other people mangle the bodies of our dead.” said Yukimura, as he made some test swings in the air. It felt uncomfortable in his hands. That was fine, he didn’t ever want weapons to feel natural in his hands again. 

The dryad didn’t respond, which Yukimura took to mean that he had left. He frowned as he regarded the tree. It would be best for now, to just try and cut the largest pieces that he could make, without worrying about the exact size of the wall of his wall. He could shape it more accurately later. He set into cutting and working, falling into a rhythm to make the hard labour easier on him. 

-

He went on going until sunset, whereby he had managed to cut a very substantial amount of wood from the tree and started on the task of moving that wood back to his house. As he dragged along huge areas of wood, to the area just outside of his garden (he hardly wanted to destroy his seeds before they had even started growing), he picked up the spare parts he’d hacked off, to use as firewood for the night. He didn’t have time to collect any firewood, not now. 

He massaged his sore fingers as he collapsed near his fireplace, used the flintbox against the pile of wood, and slowly started to feed it with some more wood and some of the dried weeds. There would be several blisters at the areas where his fingers met his palm, and tomorrow was going to be torture, he just knew it. “Fucking moron, why do you bruise so easily?” he muttered, as he took some more of the root vegetable from his bag and roasted it over the fire he’d set up. He had no bread or cheese left, just vegetables. 

Food was food, he couldn’t afford to be picky now, but the next few days were going to be hell on his stomach. Yukimura sighed, as he pulled the shawl over his shoulders more tightly. “So fucking cold. I swear, I can’t wait until winter is done.”

“Do humans dislike winter as well?” asked a voice and Yukimura jumped around immediately, bringing the skewered root vegetable to use as an automatic weapon. Yanagi stared at him, with a slight bemusement and Yukimura flushed slightly, feeling embarrassed but refusing to take back his action.

“Would you like some?” he asked, cheerfully, to try and cover his beating heart and his uneasiness that his reflex for being startled was to try and stab them with whatever was at hand. 

“You are hungry. And dryads do not need to eat.” refused Yanagi, gently, from where he stood outside the broken wall. Yukimura nodded, refusing to let the embarrassment touch him. He’d never liked being wrong or embarrassing himself back home, and even now, he always tried to turn situations to his advantage. It wasn’t mortifying until you made it mortifying. Minoru had never agreed, but that had always been Yukimura’s philosophy.

“Sit down, come on.” said Yukimura, with an inviting smile as he patted the floor next to him. Okay, so it wasn’t the height of luxury, but it felt better than Yanagi hanging out outside his broken wall. Yanagi really did look rather surprised by Yukimura’s invitation, if his lips parting was any indication, but he carefully seated himself on the floor anyway, careful not to snap any of his branches as he sat down next to Yukimura. 

“Winter is bad for humans as well?” asked Yanagi, again and Yukimura quietly filed away the idea that the dryad was curious about human nature. Interesting. Could he use that for bartering purposes later, if the dryad became more reluctant to help him? But now he was thinking with too much calculation again.

“Only for people like me, since I am alone and I have no house. With an intact house, and amongst other people, humans have little problem with winter. We don’t hibernate or die over winter, after all. We don’t even migrate.” Yukimura explained, in between bites of the root vegetable. “Actually, most houses in the city have heating. Even without a fire, they can make their house warmer than the outside world.” he said, with a slight laugh.

Yanagi looked fascinated. “How?” he asked, leaning back onto his palms. 

“Not sure.” said Yukimura, with a shrug. “I was never too interested in that, and I never experienced it myself. But there is some sort of central unit, connected to pipes which snake around the house, which delivers that heat from the central unit. I think.” That was a roundabout way to describe what little he knew, and Yukimura laughed, shortly, as he pulled a little closer to the fire. Talking about heat made him even colder. 

“You are cold?” asked Yanagi and Yukimura nodded, shortly as he pulled the blanket tighter over his shoulders. Logically, the shawl wasn’t going to make him anymore warm when stretched it out, but the more tightly compressed he was, the less cold he felt.

With a nod, Yanagi got up and quickly exited the house. Yukimura watched his tall, straight back retreat towards the forest, with a slightly furrowed brow. The last time that Yanagi had abruptly left, he’d returned with what Yukimura had asked for. But what could Yanagi be getting this time?

Yukimura glanced back into the fire, as he finished the last of his meal and got into his sleeping bag, to try and be a little warmer. Still, it didn’t help, as a breeze whipped across the house, causing the fire to flicker and his nose to freeze a little more. He wondered whether Yanagi had actually left for good now, but didn’t fall asleep, just in case, as he watched the fire die down a little. He didn’t feel much like sleeping anyway, with his hands burning from the pain.

Finally, there was some rustling and Yukimura pushed himself up to his elbows, to meet Yanagi’s closed eyes. In Yanagi’s hands, was a huge mantle of moss and woven plants, known for their softness. “This should keep you warm enough.” said Yanagi, and Yukimura snorted in disbelief, as he pulled himself out of his sleeping pack, to accept the mantle. It really was thick and warm and Yukimura was able to pull it around his entire body, if he tucked his legs under him. 

“...why are you helping me so much?” asked Yukimura, as the warmth started to settle around him. “You said that it was because I had brought growth here, but that can’t be the real reason.” Nobody had that much goodness in their heart, nobody. 

Yanagi just quirked one of his eyebrows. “Believe what you want. What I said before was true. I have never known a human like you.”

“It’s not like you’ve met that many humans, either.” said Yukimura, dryly, as he burrowed his thin chin into the moss. It was unbelievably soft. “Most of us are scum, I assure you.” 

The dryad’s mouth twitched upwards slightly. “Humans have not been good to the forest. But you have been. The forest doesn’t forget.” Yukimura’s mouth just pulled up into a small smile.

“I’m grateful for all of your help.” said Yukimura, with a nod and a slight yawn. He was tired, and he was starting to feel a numbness hit his palms. That meant that he would be able to rest a little, at least. “Do dryads sleep?” he asked, sleepily, as he reached for the sleeping bag as well. 

“No.” said Yanagi, shaking his head slightly, the hairlike grass brushing his cheeks as he did so. “We are weaker in winter, but we do not die or sleep unless our forest is entirely destroyed.”

“That sounds--” said Yukimura, his speech interrupted by a long yawn. “Dreadful.” Any weakness was always something to be loathed. “But it would be nice to not have to sleep.” Sleep meant Fuji and nightmares and the screams of people burning alive. It also limited the amount of things he could do in a day. If it wasn’t necessary for his strength, Yukimura wouldn’t do it. 

“It sounds like it would be nice to sleep.” countered Yanagi, his expression a little amused and Yukimura laughed, slowly. 

“Grass is always greener on the other side.” he said, as he lay down on the floor and closed his eyes. 

“Pardon?” asked Yanagi, looking confused, but Yukimura, feeling too tired to explain such a typically human saying, felt himself drift off to sleep instead. 

-

Surrounded by a comforting warmth, his next dream was not of fire, but of a warm summer’s day. Fuji was nowhere in sight. Instead, he was chasing after his little sister, as she darted through their garden, her dress fluttering in the breeze and her pale white feet covered in mud and grass. 

“Aneki, aneki, you can’t catch me~” she squealed, as she cartwheeled through Yukimura’s roses. Yukimura remembered this fondly, because his sister’s smile was impossible to forget when she was happy. She rarely smiled, as a quiet and serious child, but when she did, she could relieve him from the foulest mood. 

“Aniki, not aneki!” corrected Yukimura, as he ran after her and almost tripped as she dived between his legs to get away from him. Yukimura laughed in abandonment as he whirled around and pounced to catch her and pin her down. “As you can see, I am quite male, don’t you think?” he teased, his long hair falling in her face. She was grubby, as they had always been when they didn’t go out into the town. 

She squealed loudly and squirmed away from his grasp, before Yukimura pulled her close into a hug. “Love you.” he whispered softly, breaking the script of his memories again. But Minoru seemed far more accepting of that than Fuji had, as she beamed at him, with her gap-teeth.

“I love you too, aniki.” she said, her eyes crinkling close together as she pressed a clumsy kiss on his chin. Yukimura squeezed his eyes tight together, feeling her stick-like arms close around him in a tight hug. She’d been fourteen when he’d left her. He’d been at war for four years. She would have been eighteen when she died. He wondered how she would have looked. Like a woman yet? With the immense beauty that anyone from their family possessed? His dreams always featured Minoru as a child, because he couldn’t imagine how she must have looked before the fire had charred her body.

Yukimura pressed a kiss to her forehead finally and she smiled up at him, before grinning mischievously and flipping him around and escaping away. “You can’t catch me!” she squealed, as she perched on one of the plant-boxes. “How are you going to be a big strong soldier when you can’t even catch a little girl?” she teased. 

He didn’t know how, but he’d succeeded in everything when it involved death. In the end, even she’d been caught by his veil of death. But Yukimura couldn’t bear to tell her that, so he stuck to the script, and forced himself to laugh. “You’re smarter than all the people I’m going to fight, you see.” He flattered her, taking careful steps forward. “They’re all idiots, and they’s so big that it’s going to be easy to pin them down. They can’t slip out because they aren’t as tricksy as you~”

Minoru’s smile faded away a little, which definitely wasn’t what she was supposed to do. In the memory, she had let her guard down as Yukimura had complimented her and he had pinned her down and crowed about how he would win everything. “You’re sure?” she asked, quietly, her face shaky. “You won’t let them kill you? You’ll kill them first?”

His mouth parted as he stared at her. Minoru’s face became unnaturally serious as she sat down on the plant pot, her legs swinging slightly. “I want you to come home, aniki. So you should do whatever you can to do that. If they die, they die, but I want you to come home to me, again.”

“You aren’t there when I get back, though.” Yukimura said, as he gave up his pretence of following the script and walked up to her figure. She didn’t run away from him, instead let him sit next to her, and leant her head on his shoulder. 

“But _you’re_ alive. Don’t you think you ought to take advantage of that, aniki?” she asked, her voice adorable and cute, as she had always been. Her blue hair mixed with his and Yukimura felt her warmth against his, with a relentless longing. 

He pulled her closer to him, snaking his arm around her dirty shoulders, not caring about his uniform getting dirty. “I am. I’m alive. In the countryside. Building a house. I’m going to live well. No more war, no more death. Just me. It would have been big enough for you, me, Yuuta and Syuusuke....” he trailed off, as a lump rose to his throat. That was what he’d been so cheerily hoping for as their war had drawn to a close. But, there was no chance of that now.

“Are you really living well?” she asked, softly, turning around to him and pressing a kiss against his cheek, before she hopped off the wall. Yukimura reached forward to reach for her sleeve, but she was gone, and there was no trace of her having ever been inside the garden. 

He woke up slowly from the dream, the dappled sunlight through the wall feeling like the warmth of his old garden. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Yukimura winced as the action harmed the areas where his palm had swollen. Today, even gardening was going to be extremely painful. Still, he could probably make this a little easier. 

He rummaged through his pack, and stared at the roll of bandages. The last time he’d cut some cloth from this roll of bandages had been to patch up Niou’s intestines, with an anxious Yagyuu helping him (it hadn’t worked). He stopped and stared at the bandages for a long minute, as for a single instant, he felt like he was back on the warfield, with the primitive guns firing over head and the people running with swords and killing each other. The chaos of the battlefield filled his mind and he could almost smell the scent of blood and death, but before he became mired in his memories, a bird crowed outside, bringing him back to his freezing house, staring down at his pack, like a fool. 

Yukimura laughed shakily at his own stupidity, pulled out the bandages and fiercely wrapped them around his aching and tender hands. Every tug of the bandages ached like the worst pain and Yukimura wished that he’d thought of this yesterday, before he’d started work on chopping up the wood, but what was done was done, and he had to live with the consequences. He pulled more on the bandages, until the last of them were tied neatly. 

With that, he bounced his way outside to grab his water, his hands cramping at the arduous process of pulling up the bucket with the fraying rope. He’d probably have to try and replace that soon, especially with how much water he pulled up on a daily basis to shower, water his plants and drink himself. But that was perhaps the easiest of the fixes to do and low on his priority list.

Watering, then to attaching the pieces of wood to his house. Shivering slightly from the chill sneaking in, Yukimura swore and ran back into his house to grab his shawl. 

The problem, Yukimura mused, as he hauled the buckets of water for his plants back and forth, was that he didn’t have nails. And the pieces were very large, but they weren’t going to be able to cover the whole wall. Which brought up the question of how the hell he was going to do this. He could ask Yanagi if he had any bright ideas, but in the instance that he didn’t...Yukimura really would need to go down to the village. 

_Are you really living well?_ his sister’s voice asked, faintly in his mind, and Yukimura scowled, furiously. No. No, he wasn’t dealing with this now. Living well didn’t necessarily mean mixing with humans. He was doing just fine by himself. 

It was easy enough to water the plants when they were like this, but it would take longer to do once they started sprouting roots and stems and shooting up to the sky. He wondered whether he’d be finished with his house repairs by then, but honestly, Yukimura had no idea for his future. 

For the first time in a long time, there was no real end goal in Yukimura’s mind, nothing to really achieve, nothing to make him push himself beyond basic survival. He was just here. Trying to be happy. But happiness was such an ambiguous thing, and staying alive for as long as possible was too vague a goal to accomplish. The face of his laughing sister came back to him and Yukimura exhaled out. He missed her. He missed his life beforehand. He missed being someone with direction, with something to live for, something to fight for, something to keep striving forward for.

He was alive, but why?

With a slight scoff, Yukimura tipped the last bucket of water over his seeds and wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm. There. Done. Now for the house. 

He really didn’t know what to do about his problem with the wall, so he edged towards the forest and called again. “Yanagi Renji?” he shouted, and waited, as he felt the sweat drop off his nose and temples, uncomfortably. His chest heaved and he slowly felt the cooling evaporation of the sweat drops. 

Slowly, from the branches, Yanagi emerged again, with the expected hesitation. “Yukimura.” greeted the dryad and Yukimura smiled. 

“Hi.” he said, feeling happy to see the dryad’s face again. It was stupid, but he hadn’t had proper company in so long, and having someone to talk to was beyond exhilarating. “Thank you for the mantle. It really was helpful.” he said, gratefully, as he pushed back his damp hair. 

“I am glad.” said Yanagi with a nod, and even if he didn’t look it, the dryad’s voice sounded more like summer and happiness. Yukimura believed him. 

“And I am sorry, but I have another request.” Yukimura said, with a slightly abashed smile. “It’s to do with building the wall to my house.”

Yanagi tilted his head and Yukimura beckoned for the dryad to follow him out to the house. “So I need to place their pieces to my wall. But they’re all individually too small to fix the entire wall. I need something called nails to be able to fix them all together.” he said, quietly. “They look like this.” he said pointing to one of the intact walls, where a slightly browning metal nail was driven into the thick wood. The house would look different on one wall, and that fact was probably going to irritate Yukimura greatly, but he tried to not let it bother him too much. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all. 

“A metal circle?’ asked Yanagi, curiously and Yukimura shook his head. 

“...one moment.” Yukimura said, ducking into the house through the wall. He hadn’t had much time to search the house through, but he had noticed a few rusted nails in the back of the formerly-ant-infested kitchen. 

He grabbed them quickly, wrinkling his nose at the few dead ants still left in there, and returned to Yanagi, who picked the nails up and examined them with abject fascination. “You wish me to make these for you?” he asked. 

“Not out of metal. Metal rusts too easily and it rains easily in this land.” Though admittedly, it hadn’t rained in some time and Yukimura was uneasy about that fact. “Out of stone.”

“You intend to hit it into the wood?” asked Yanagi, as he tipped the nails back into Yukimura’s palm, his wooden hands brushing over Yukimura’s. “To keep it in place?”

“Yes.” said Yukimura, with a firm nod. Good, the dryad caught on quickly. 

Yanagi shook his head, sadly. “It will not work. Wood has always been stronger than stone. It will shatter.” He looked quite regretful about this fact, which didn’t quite make up for Yukimura’s disappointment. Oh. How did he fix his house then?

With a heavy sigh, Yukimura ran a hand through his hair. “Oh. I didn’t know that. Sorry for disturbing you, then.” he said, with a nod. What did he do about his house then? Did he really need to go down towards the world of humans now?

Yanagi paused softly. “I could weld the wood together for you.” he said, softly and Yukimura looked up with surprise. That was possible?

“Really? asked Yukimura, feeling a little astonished and excited. “How?”

“I control trees and how they move. It’s part and parcel of being a dryad. The wooden segments are my dead compatriots as you said, yesterday. It is more difficult to manipulate them, but it can be done.” explained Yanagi, his tone soft, as he ran a hand over one of the large segments. Yukimura nodded, watching the smooth movement with fascination. The way that Yanagi moved and acted as a dryad would never fail to amaze Yukimura. “But I will need your help as well.”

“Of course.” said Yukimura, immediately. The previous him would have tried to evade any extra work, but Yukimura was determined to not be like that. Besides, he was asking Yanagi a lot, he’d have to help, as well. 

“It is necessary that there be a certain amount of energy sacrificed, energy I do not possess since this is hibernation season.” said Yanagi, solemnly, with a nod. “I need your energy. You need to lift and hold the fragments together while I weld them all together. I cannot do both.”

Yukimura just nodded grimly. If he’d gone with the original plan of nails, he would have needed to do that anyway. “Alright.” said Yukimura, as he rolled up his sleeves. “Do you want to start now?”

-

By the time they finished patching the last of his wooden wall onto the cabin, the sun’s rays were disappearing and the cold was starting to set in. Still, the force of holding some of the pieces up, as the wood slowly, slowly melded, was more than enough to warm up Yukimura. As they finally finished, Yukimura smiled contentedly at Yanagi.

“That was a job well done.” he said, with a warm smile, as he wiped the dripping beads of sweat from his temples. He would need to wash tomorrow, most likely, in the freezing cold water of the spring, but now that he had a slightly more intact house, it looked like it would be a good day. 

Yanagi inclined his head. Despite his wooden skin looking more drawn and taut, his expression was as impassive as ever. “Indeed. You work quite hard.”

“Would like like to stay for dinner?” asked Yukimura, tilting his head to the side, but Yanagi shook his head. 

“I have business to attend to in the forest. But thank you.” he refused politely, and Yukimura’s answering smile hid his slight disappointment. The work had been strenuous this afternoon, with his aching palms and Yanagi’s intense concentration, and he had not spoken to Yanagi beyond the constraints of where to move the large chunks of wood. He sort of regretted that now, but he just nodded, respecting Yanagi’s decision. 

Using the scraps left from the day’s work, he made a measly fire inside his house, and ate some more fruit, as he massaged his blistered hands. Some of them had popped, leaving pus along the inside of the bandages. Yukimura burned the bandages with a look of disgust and replaced them, quietly and neatly, wincing slightly at the pain. It was nothing he hadn’t experienced before, but there was little-to-no adrenaline in his veins, this time, to alleviate the pain. 

With both his food and his fire quickly sorted, Yukimura found himself with time on his hands. He glanced towards his pack, filled with the arts of his trade from the past, before he shook his head, firmly. No. He had told himself that he would not touch those until he was entirely comfortable in his life here. And he wasn’t, not yet. The roof still had a hole, the house was still barren and he still couldn’t sustain himself nutritionally. He had a long way to go.

Yukimura leant back and exhaled, his breath ragged. The night air was less bitter now, close to the fire and inside a relatively sealed cabin. It felt a little more like his home, before he’d left for the army and if he breathed loudly enough, he could almost hear Yuuta and Minoru arguing over who got to sit on the armchair closest to the fire, while he sprawled over the carpet and worked on his schoolwork.

Yuuta. It was the first time he’d really thought of the other living member of his makeshift family and his eyes reluctantly opened. Fuji had accused him of leaving Yuuta, when Fuji himself had stayed with Minoru to the end. Where was Yuuta now, Yukimura wondered? He hadn’t lingered long enough inside their old city home to find out about Yuuta’s fate, too disgusted by the violence he and his comrades had been unable to prevent, too absorbed by their own pursuit of glory. He hoped that Yuuta was happy. 

He’d always been the most reliable member of their family, with the largest ambition to match it. Yukimura and Fuji had always thought in the somewhat short-term. Do the best in what they had now, to lead to a better future. But Yuuta had always aimed for one particular goal and had rarely participated in anything that wouldn’t contribute to his eventual dream. Yukimura hoped that Yuuta was still chasing his dream somewhere. 

...did Yuuta even know that they were dead? The thought made Yukimura shudder. Did Yuuta still live his life thinking that his elder brother and practically-younger-sister were still alive? Were his nights haunted with their bodies? Yukimura wasn't sure which one he preferred. To know that Yuuta was across the country, suffering as profoundly as Yukimura was, or to know that Yuuta was happily oblivious, thinking that everyone else was doing well? Fuji would have slapped him and told him to choose the latter, but Yukimura was selfish, so bitterly selfish. 

He wanted Yuuta to be lying in his bed, looking up at the same stars, and crying tears of blood just thinking about the memories of the past. He wanted Yuuta to be crippled by the mere thought of war. He wanted someone to suffer like he did. Misery did love Company. 

Yukimura let out a despairing sob, as he pulled himself away from the fire and pressed a hand to his mouth. So selfish, so so selfish. He’d not spared a single tear for the fallen members of his battalion, and he’d never spared a tear for his still living compatriots, who were so injured that they could no longer function normally. But he’d cried for Minoru and Fuji and himself. Inherently selfish. 

“I’m sorry, Yuuta. I’m sorry I was selfish and cowardly. I’m sorry.” he said, softly. Would this life have been easier with Yuuta at his side? The two of them building and planting together? But honestly, he couldn’t see Yuuta ever being content with this lifestyle, so sedate and simple. Yuuta had always styled himself as aiming for something greater, and Yuuta had never made the foolish mistake of pursuing war for glory, like Yukimura had. He would still aspire to something greater, still be aspiring to something greater now. 

Yukimura’s eyes felt weary. He didn’t like being left alone with his own thoughts. They hurt, like little else, so he crawled over to where the large robe of grass and moss lay, and wrapped himself tightly in the smell of nature and plants. If he shut his eyes and pretended, he could almost imagine himself away in someplace better. 

-

His dreams were restless, filled with fleeting images of places he’d known, with Fuji and Yuuta running through the images, laughing and running, leaving Yukimura behind. But there were no too-painful conversations, which made Yukimura grateful. He could deal with just seeing their faces. But then the tone changed, and he was on a battlefield. His hands dripped with blood and he looked out over the once fertile land, which had been burned to the ground in their game of war. Bodies were scattered everywhere and the smell of death seeped through everything. 

This was too familiar. Yukimura’s breath caught in his throat. When he had seen this the first time around, he had been nothing but relieved, and deliriously happy for it all to be, over but all he felt now was disgust. He couldn’t breathe properly. He turned around, and the struggling members of their troop were patching themselves up. 

Jackal was blind in one eye, and had lost a leg, and was currently being patched up by Marui, whose hands were shaking and was crying. Niou was long dead, but Yagyuu looked altogether too much like him in that moment, as the medic struggled to knit the wound together and make sure that Shiraishi’s organs stayed inside him. In real life, Yukimura had done nothing, just watched out for others and had been busy trying to contact backup. But, now Yukimura already knew that nobody else was coming. They had been too successful in destroying everything. 

So he stepped forward to where Yagyuu was working and held down Shiraishi’s hands. “Don’t move too much, Shiraishi.” said Yukimura, quietly, as Yagyuu shot him a grateful look and went back to trying to bandage him, without Shiraishi’s involuntary movements ruining his efforts. 

“Are the others coming?” asked Marui and Yukimura paused, and looked down at Shiraishi’s sweating face. In real life, Shiraishi had died on the scene and Jackal would be forever crippled. If he lied about the reinforcements coming, he could give them hope. But he had lied in real life, and that had done no good for their morale, once Shiraishi had died and none of their reinforcements had arrived. 

“No.” said Yukimura, squeezing Shiraishi’s hands tightly. “They’re dead or too far away. the nearest help is two days away. It’s just us.”

Yagyuu’s face paled and Shiraishi’s face set into something very grim. They were all smart. They knew how this would end, now. Marui groaned, tilting his head back and Jackal looked paler than ever. Yukimura exhaled, shakily and squeezed Shiraishi’s hands again, pushing down his strugglings as Yagyuu started sewing, in vain. 

“You may as well save your thread, Yagyuu.” said Shiraishi, forcing a smile onto his face as he looked back towards the team medic. “No point wasting your materials on a dying man.”

“You’re not going to die.” Yagyuu said, his face pinched, as he attempted to close his wounds a little more. 

Shiraishi’s face fell and Yukimura returned the grim smile to his. “Yagyuu.” he warned, quietly and Jackal and Marui both turned to look at him, with a horrified expressions on their faces. Yukimura thought that his original actions would have warranted that look, rather than what he was doing now. But this was his troop, the troop he’d trained to love war and glory as much as he had. 

Yagyuu’s face was mutinous. “Captain...” he said, and Yukimura shook his head. 

“Don’t torture the man on his deathbed.” he said, quietly, as he leant back, not letting go of Shiraishi’s hands. “You won’t save him. Death claims all who have set foot in this bloodbath.” he murmured, glancing up at the mocking, blue sky. As if something wonderful had happened. 

Yukimura of the past had rejoiced with this weather, it had made him feel like a hero, feel like the destruction was glorious. But now, Yukimura wanted the skies to rain, to wash away the scent, to cry upon the poor, mangled bodies of the unfortunate soldiers.

But this was just a dream, a twisted version of his memories. It would not change what had already happened. 

“At least Akaya’s away from all of this.” said Jackal, probing at his eyepatch, with pain. Yukimura smiled, dryly. The young teen who had snuck in, pretending to be of age, yes he remembered Akaya. His lanky body had managed to allow him into the armed forces, but the way he had spoken was enough to give him away. Yukimura had wanted to keep him, and use him, but after Niou had died, Yukimura had been forced by Shiraishi and Marui to send him back. It had been difficult to send away a talented soldier at the time, but Yukimura could only be grateful now. 

“Yes, we won, Yukimura.” said Shiraishi, with a small smile. “We are done. Be happy.”

“So you think. They will call us away again, the triumphant soldiers. Away on another mission, which we three, Yagyuu, Marui and I will take, without even doubting why. And we will kill all who cross our path then, as well. And when we return home, we will see that the enemy have returned the favour.” Yukimura said, closing his eyes. He was tired of this. He wanted to wake up. 

Marui shook his head, changing the script with a wry grin. “They only returned the favour to you, Captain, the person who orchestrated this battle.” he said, with a shrug. “Yagyuu and I pay in a different way. In a less ironic way, more tragic.” That was right, in real life, they were now dead. 

“Yes.” said Yukimura, bowing his head. Even now, he could not summon a single tear for his compatriots. “Because this wasn’t a battle, this was a slaughter.”

They all agreed, with varying tones of sadness about it and Yukimura tilted his head back, as the dream faded away and he woke up, the scent of death lingering in his nose, and his eyes conspicuously dry. With a heavy sigh, Yukimura untangled himself from the mantle, and staggered outside to grab the water and hopefully erase the smell of death. 

It was not one of those nightmares where he wanted to throw himself off a cliff when he woke up, but he felt empty inside, as he stared down at the bucket. The thought of battle made him sick, down to his very bones. Still, he hadn’t eaten enough for him to be able to throw up and he needed his strength. He couldn’t afford to lose himself over this. He had promised his sister to keep living, even if it had been in a dream. 

Yukimura staggered back to the house and washed up, feeling a little happier to be able to be able to do so in a completely closed house. Feeling a little light-headed, he finished his last piece of fruit and made a mental note to ask Yanagi for more food. He had so many other things to sort out and his own garden still hadn’t started sprouting yet, so food was a scarcity. It was why he only ate two meals nowadays. 

After watering his garden, in record time, Yukimura leant back and panted. The sky was cloudy today, and looked set to only get darker. The rain would be coming soon and his roof was still not done. Well, he knew what he was doing today. Fixing his roof first, and then, if he had time, chop some wood off the slowly dying tree for a long-lasting supply of firewood. Damp wood wasn’t good for fires. 

It was going to be a long day. Yukimura laughed, tightened the bandages over his hands a little, and walked over to the tree, to grab the large bundles of willow branches. “Yanagi?” he called. He needed a boost up to the roof of his house, and couldn’t do that without the tall dryad. He wondered whether he was perhaps taking too much aid from the dryad, but Yukimura was just doing the sensible thing here, really. Who wouldn’t do what he was doing? If Yanagi had freely offered help for things that Yukimura couldn’t otherwise do, why wouldn’t he take the dryad’s offer?

Within a few heartbeats, the dryad emerged from the trees and Yukimura waved. “Hello.” he said, with a wide smile. He just wanted to talk to someone today, even if Yanagi had departed so rapidly yesterday as a sign that he didn’t want to talk. 

“Hello.” Yanagi repeated, his mouth pulling upwards. 

“So, you think you could give me a boost up to the roof of my house? I need to fix the hole today, before it starts raining.” asked Yukimura, with a cheerfully crafted smile. He wasn’t sure he could smile properly today, with his memories of the war so fresh in his mind. 

Yanagi nodded as he walked with Yukimura towards the small cottage. Yukimura breathed in deeply, trying to fill himself with the scent of the oncoming rain, rather than the blood from his mind. “Oh,” he realized, as they reached the cottage, stepping carefully over his vegetable garden, “Would you mind terribly if you could find some more of those root vegetables? I have run out of food.”

Yanagi lifted Yukimura up like he was nothing, and deposited him neatly on the roof, though Yukimura’s legs gave out on him, with the slight impact of landing. Yanagi was only taller than him by about a head, but he was a lot, lot stronger. “I will be sure to.” said Yanagi, with a smile. “Sometimes I forget that humans need to eat all the time. It has been a long time since I have interacted with any.”

“Fifty summers and one winter.” said Yukimura, with a dry laugh, as he pulled himself to his feet, clutching the reeds, for moral support. It wasn’t too much of a fall down from the roof of his house, but it would hurt and if he didn’t control himself he would break something. “I remember.”

Yanagi nodded, softly. “He built this house, by hand.” There was a tinge of affection in the voice, the warmth that always took Yukimura by surprise, no matter how often it occurred. 

Yukimura’s lips pressed shut, with surprise, and to stop himself from saying something unflattering. He couldn’t help but feel a sudden stab of resentment towards this person, whoever he was. The man who wasn’t repulsed by the idea of human interaction, who was competent enough to build a house by himself with clearly human technology, the man who Yanagi seemed to treasure. Everything Yukimura wasn’t. 

Taking a seat near the edge of the hole in his roof, Yukimura started weaving. At least he knew how to do this much without help. Yanagi hadn’t left, as he watched Yukimura, with placid eyes. Finally, Yukimura spoke up. “What was he like? The man who never got to live in the house that he built?”

That clearly struck a cord in Yanagi’s heart, as he raised an eyebrow, looking a little unnerved. Yukimura smiled, without much warmth. “I spent my adult life on the move, I know how a lived place looks and how an unlived place looks.” he said, quietly, as his fingers managed to spin the reeds well, despite the ache from his blisters. This was one thing he knew he was good at, anyway. 

There was a long silence, as Yukimura felt a slightly chilly breeze whip past him. He kept weaving, wanting to make as progress as possible. It was easier than he could have possibly hoped, and his only problem would be running out of willow branches halfway through, since he was looping them quite tightly through the slats of wood that made up the inner layer of the roof. Thankfully that hadn’t rotted over the past fifty years. 

“He was extraordinary.” said Yanagi finally, before nodding and walking away. Yukimura snorted, softly, as he continued to weave. He had known many extraordinary people in his life, and they always died too soon. That was probably what happened to Yanagi’s mysterious human, wasn’t it? Only the extraordinarily evil people survived. 

With a tired sigh, Yukimura continued weaving, careful with his hands, avoiding splinters. The clouds rolled in, closer and closer, their heavy edges staining the sky with sorrow. It was not cold enough that it would snow, but the rain itself would be chilly and unwelcome. perhaps it would mean that he wouldn’t need to water his plants tomorrow, but that all depended on how heavily it rained. 

Yukimura remembered the constant drizzly rain from foreign lands, where they had battled for four months, gaining no progress. That rain weighed on the soul, but it would still mean that he would need to water his planets. However, if it was anything like the storms which had frequently hit where he and Fuji had lived through their childhood, he would not need to water his plants for a couple of days. Of course with a storm like that, he ran the risk of potentially killing the seeds, but he could not help that. 

The willow reeds were pliant under his fingers, and the time passed quickly, as he weaved and weaved, without rest. His roof was almost close to being patched. So close to being patched. He focused completely on the roof, and the pattern he was making, trying to not think of his mother, and how making reed baskets with elaborate patterns had been one of her favourite pastimes, before the factories had come and with them, her death. 

By the time the last of the reeds were tied together, the light was fading and Yukimura yawned, long and loud. The clouds had steadily gotten darker over the course of the day, and he could feel the rain in the air, the arrested feeling, as the whole world waited for the moment when the heavens would pour their load down. As much as he wanted to just sit here and wait for the rain to come, he needed to go and cut the firewood from the tree, and maybe get himself some more water from the well. 

That involved getting off his roof. Yukimura peeked over the edge, balanced, before pulling a face. It was a jump down. There were more scary things in life. Taking a deep breath, Yukimura jumped, keeping his eyes open firmly, as he absorbed the impact by bending his knees and rolling with it. Not so bad. He pushed himself up, quickly walked inside his now completely dark house to retrieve the axe, and walked over to the old tree. His hands ached, from all the work he’d been giving them, but he forced himself to lift up the axe again, and hit down, against the tree.

His blows were weak, but the tree was dead, and so it was easier to cut through. Two meals a day was taking its toll on him. He’d eaten better in the army, and that was saying something, considering how little money existed there. Still, he would have to survive like this until his plants started growing in spring. He was strong. He could do this.

He hacked away at the tree, with as much speed and ruthlessness as he could manage. 

With a tired sigh, Yukimura felt a couple of droplets of water hit his face. No time to gather any water from the well. He hauled the firewood to his house as quickly as he could, ignoring the protests from his limbs, and the slowly increasing rate of droplets that spattered down around him. His hair was dripping slightly as he pulled the last of the firewood into his house. 

Oh, he was tired. He pulled the driest wood into the fireplace and watched with slightly glazed eyes as the fire burned, releasing some much needed heat into the small cottage. Yukimura huddled into his sleeping pack, and shivered the cold away. He was tired and hungry but didn’t want to sleep. What if he dreamt of the war again? He wasn’t sure he could deal with that. 

The rain outside was pouring, and the fire was crackling, however, and Yukimura could feel himself being slowly lulled away to the dream world. He blinked rapidly and tried to shift around inside his blanket to avoid that fate. No. He didn’t want to sleep yet. 

There was a knock on his door, quiet and soft, and Yukimura jerked upwards. Had he imagined it...? “Come in!” he called anyway. The door opened, and Yanagi ducked in, bringing fruit, which spilled out of his hands. Yukimura pulled himself up, shedding his pack and he went to catch the tumbling fruit, and help Yanagi carry them over to his now, mostly clean, kitchen. 

“Thank you.” said Yukimura, when all the of the tumbling pieces of fruit were firmly placed on the least disgusting cupboard shelf. He would need to wash them before he ate them, but that was no big deal. He picked one fruit with skin and walked over to his fire, beckoning Yanagi to join him. They both sat down, just shy of the fire, far enough that the sparks would not hit Yanagi’s wooden body and injure him. 

“His name was Sanada.” said Yanagi, suddenly, as Yukimura started to nibble on the fruit, relishing in the tart flavour against his tongue. “He lived in the village underneath us. But he was not content with the life there. He wished for true peace and contentment. To do that, he came up to the forest to meditate, where he met me.”

Yukimura nodded, quietly, listening to the story, with the juice trickling from the corners of his mouth. Fifty years ago. Before the machines had come to every corner of life. He wondered what sort of man would have searched for peace in a life which would have been peaceful in itself. Still, humans were creatures of violence. Even without the destructive weapons, there would have been war, if simpler and less destructive. 

“He didn’t want much. He just wanted a place to meditate in peace. At first, he did so inside the forest groves, but the rains soaked through and made him ill. I had left him alone until then, but I could not let such a peaceful human die. So I made him a shelter and brought him back to life, with warmth and food.” Yanagi explained, his lilting voice like a balm to Yukimura’s ears. Yukimura glanced down. He was a compassionate dryad in general, then. Most dryads of myth were impassive, and uncaring for the affairs of humans, but Yanagi seemed an exception to that. Yukimura was grateful. It would have been harder to survive here without the dryad’s help. 

“He returned to the human world for some time after that, for he woke up with a terrible cough. Then he returned, almost a year later, with many supplies and started to build a house here, on the edge of the forest. I watched, though he refused all and any help.”

“Stubborn.” murmured Yukimura, without thinking. It was not easy to build a house. Even with help, he ached all over just trying to repair it. No matter how healthy you were, it would be difficult to build a house without help. 

“Indeed.” replied the dryad, with a faint smile pulling at his face. “Genichirou was often stubborn. But he was kind, and treated the forest well, like you.”

Yukimura scoffed, faintly, with the memories of war still flitting around his brain. He had forgotten kindness to nature in his quest for glory. “I burnt a forest to the ground, once, to destroy our enemy. There was nothing left after that, not even stumps.” he said, softly. ‘The smell of charred human flesh will never quite go away.”

He had to swallow three times to swallow the chunk of fruit that was in his mouth, and he placed the remnants of the fruit to the side. He had lost his appetite, now. Yanagi’s gaze was on him, though his eyes were still gently lidded. “But you regret it.” said Yanagi, quietly. “You feel the pain of it. Humans do not feel that on a regular basis.”

Yukimura tilted his head back. the sound of rain pummeled against his inner eardrums. “Does my regret make the action disappear, Yanagi?” he asked, staring up at the reeds on the roof. The juxtaposition of straw and the reeds created a strange dappled pattern of red spreading out into faded gold.

“No.” The dryad said, without pause. “But it makes your character kinder, tempered. Less likely to repeat atrocities like that.”

Yukimura was silent for a moment, before his head bowed, heading his collarbone, heavily. “I am not so sure of that, Yanagi. Even now, I calculate the most advantageous way for me to survive, even at the expense of others.”

The dryad raised an eyebrow, as he shifted slowly. “Is survival something to be faulted? All animals and even plants, we search to survive. It is the intentional and enjoyed destruction of others which is considered evil.” It was a well argued point, but Yukimura wasn’t entirely sure he agreed. 

“I am no stranger to intentional and enjoyed destruction, either. Yanagi.” said Yukimura, with a dry laugh. “I used to laugh after I slaughtered a large platoon of men. I would feel their lifeblood on my hands, or staining the floor, and it would be like the essence of euphoria for me. I would search intentionally for a fight, to feel that glory in my veins, and the joy in seeing their mangled bodies on the floor. I have killed so many people, and their faces all blur together, in one bloody, gory mess.” His voice became louder and more high-pitched, fervent as he almost saw the mound of bodies, towering higher and higher, up against the landscape of his sins. The dryad didn’t interrupt, as he stared at Yukimura. 

“And what reason?! I didn’t even know! I didn’t know _why_ I fought that war! I just went in like a fool, seeking for glory, not realizing that the enemy were the same as me, not realizing that this war was all for naught, that I was fighting for the grievances of the rich and bored, that my life and their lives were the same, I was just better at killing--” He cut himself off with a deep intake of breath, staring up at the impassive face of the dryad. 

“Oh god, I waited that night I burned the forest, until I could see the whites of their eyes and the sheer fear they felt as they realized that they were completely surrounded and that there was no way to survive unscathed. I watched especially to see their faces as they burned alive. And it made me so happy. I was so happy, deliriously happy. Is it no wonder that when I returned home, I found that the same fate had happened to my family?” he demanded, unable to stop the tears, now. He was finally able to cry for the compatriots in the war. What he had been. What he still could be. 

“And I could have saved my family. If I hadn’t been so wrapped in a pointless glory. They allowed me the chance to go home, but there was a war elsewhere, and I just signed myself up for that, without thinking. And I fought there for six months, before we won there as well. And I arrived home two days too late to stop anything, two days too late to protect them.” he whispered, the tears still pouring down his cheeks. “They looked so peaceful, the remnants of their bodies. Nothing like the men I burned in the forest. Even in that, the other side were kinder than I ever was.”

He collapsed down, his head impacting with Yanagi’s thighs, as he cried into the branches, and the small buds. He cried until there were no tears left, and all he was left with emptiness and a cold fury at himself. He noticed Yanagi’s hand against his back, soothing and solid, and his other hand stroking Yukimura’s hair, slowly. He had said nothing through Yukimura’s outburst, and said nothing now, as they both stared at the slowly dying fire. 

“The past cannot rule you, forever. You must keep moving forward. You cannot erase what you have, but you can aim for redemption. And you are doing your fair share of that now, are you not?” asked Yanagi, quietly. “I cannot speak for humans, but you are slowly repaying your crimes to the forest. It will take more work yet, but you are edging closer towards it.”

Yukimura wondered whether the dryad hated him, for burning a forest down. After all, Yukimura was nothing like the extraordinary Sanada, who had come here to be peaceful, instead of to escape his sins. But the dryad still attempted to comfort him. There didn’t seem to be hatred, but he must have been shocked, if even momentarily. He regretted causing the dryad pain. 

Was he twisted? He wanted Yuuta to suffer in the same pain that Yukimura felt now, but he didn’t even want Yanagi to be the slightest bit inconvenienced. 

“Every year, there is a dryads meeting.” started Yanagi, one of his hands still on Yukimura’s back rubbing, soothingly. “At the Equinox, we meet, when day and night are evenly distributed. And every dryad walks gargantuan distances to get to the meeting places every year. Some are in the North, where it is windy, and it feels like the world wants to throw you off her surface. Some are in the South, where it is bitterly cold, and only the hardiest of trees can live. Some are in the mountains, tall and high, with little substance in the soil except snow and rock. Some are in the lowlands, close to the sea, where the heat cloys and sticks to a body, until the very sap starts leaking out. And some are in areas like mine, cool, refreshing and very rainy.” Yanagi said, dryly. 

Yukimura shifted slightly, so he could watch Yanagi’s face, and the way the shadows played across his face, from the flickering, yellow light of the fire. He sounded lost, as if in a memory and Yukimura watched, with curiosity. Did Yanagi’s memories pull him in violently, like Yukimura’s own?

“And every year, we celebrate. We sing, we dance, we eat, we exchange tales, we speak of the matters of the world and balance. It is a time of peace, and remembrance, yes, but a time of looking forward to what we must expect from the world. These meetings decrease as humans spread and reduce our number, but they used to occur at every other equinox.” Yanagi explained, carefully, his voice lilting and peaceful to listen to, like summer. It very much made Yukimura wish to sleep, but he forced himself awake, so he could listen to this tale of Yanagi. 

“And one of our number is old, older than most of us can recall. And so, his forest had declined, as all of us start to do, but every meeting he attended, he talked not of what had happened that year, but of the events of the past, when his forest was strong. And so none of us knew until it was too late that his forest had declined to nothing. And so he died.” Yanagi said, softly. “It is not uncommon for our kind to die and we are not so close that it would hurt, but it was a blow, since it had been easily preventable.”

“So your moral is to look forward lest I die in the past? I had already surmised that.” Yukimura stated wryly, as he shifted slightly, so he was no longer lying on his stomach. “It is why I came here, you know. To escape the death that follows my friends, that dogs their footsteps and will do so for as long as it takes. I want to live past thirty.”

Yanagi’s mouth pulled up, in an expression that Yukimura couldn’t quite read. They looked at each other for a long time, before Yanagi looked away and laughed. Yukimura felt a little vindicated to have won a staring contest with an ancient being. It was a small victory, but perhaps he had taken that particular trait of Fuji’s, now that the large victories no longer seemed so grand. Was it something that Fuji had always understood? Something that Yukimura had never got?

No, Fuji had competed just as hotly as Yukimura had. He’d wanted glory like Yukimura. He’d satisfied himself with second place, however, in order to keep loving Yukimura, and made his small victories his own. It was different from Yukimura’s forced humility now, different from the humility of a man who had nothing and wanted nothing more than peace. 

“There’s a song we used to sing, to herald in the summer. Would you like to hear it?” asked Yanagi, quietly and Yukimura nodded, softly, feeling a little childish now, and so very empty. Yanagi cleared his throat and sung, and it was as if summer itself had come to his cottage. There were no words per say, not like the summer folk songs that Yukimura knew. It was instead the language of summer, in the glare of the sun, and the certain sound of cicadas in the nights, and the rustling of a lazy breeze, and most of all, the all-encompassing warmth. 

It was so soothing that Yukimura’s eyes fluttered together despite himself and he drifted off into a blissfully dreamless sleep. 

When he woke, Yanagi was nowhere to be seen, and the sound of rain still chimed outside, though with less force than it had the night before. Cautiously, Yukimura made his way out of the mantle, which he didn’t remember wearing the night before, and pushed open the fragile windows, careful to not break the hinges. After the conversation they’d had last night, it would have been a bad start to return to his habit of breaking things. 

The rain still pattered down against the land and the clouds showed no signs of breaking. It looked like today, Yukimura would have to stay inside. He had sworn to not touch his leisure supplies until the place was fixed and there were plenty of things to do, even inside the house.

His hands twitched as he glanced towards his bag. It would be so easy to just open the box.... but no, not yet. He smoothed back his hair and glanced at his dirty house. He had been worried about how to clean his house before but he could tie together some of the spare reeds together in order to make a makeshift broom, and he could use his apron as a cloth to wipe down any surfaces, and maybe wash the apron clean later. Simply done. 

Well then, he’d better get to work. 

-

With a low groan, Yukimura collapsed back against the ground. His back ached, and his hands were practically seizing up with pain, but the house was looking a lot cleaner than it had been. The kitchen glistened where Yukimura had scrubbed and scrubbed, and his makeshift broom had been good enough to sweep all of the leaves and dust outside of the house, back to where it belonged. 

It was not spotless, but it was a far sight better than it had been. Still, the lack of dirt only emphasized how bare the cottage was. He had the cupboards and the area to cook inside the kitchen and there was nothing inside his living room come sleeping area. He needed a table, he needed chairs and he definitely needed to fixed those darned windows.

Still, he had time to do that slowly now. The house was intact once more, he had a garden set up and he had some more daylight hours, as it slowly edged closer and closer towards summer. 

Yukimura rubbed at his eyes, and pulled himself up to start the fire. The dreamless sleep had done wonders for his mental state. He felt a lot less lost and empty now. He had done things wrong that he would never be able to atone for. But he was continuing to live, and that was okay. _Are you really living well?_ asked his sister in his mind’s eye and Yukimura nodded, softly to himself. He wasn’t, not yet, but he was trying. 

There was a knock on his door and Yukimura yelled “Come in!” without pausing his job of lighting the fire. Yanagi walked in, and the sounds of howling outside hadn’t yet ceased. It was an awful storm, but one that had been a long-time coming. 

Yukimura smiled at the dryad, as he went for some of the food. “How was your day?” he asked, cheerily. 

Yanagi paused and lifted his eyebrows at him. “I did my duties in the forest. Nothing spectacular.” He sounded nonplussed and Yukimura couldn’t help but laugh. Okay, so today was a far-shot from how he had been yesterday, that was probably disconcerting for the dryad. He had initially seemed confused by Yukimura’s proclivity for changing moods. 

“Really? How dull. I suppose that’s what happens on a rainy day like this. But, then again, the forest would appreciate rain a lot more than humans do?” asked Yukimura, as he stuck the root vegetable to roast over the fire. 

“In general. Storms can sometimes be disastrous, but this is not a storm that could potentially destroy us.” Yanagi said, as he watched Yukimura, with his lidded gaze. 

“Mmm. Well, you know, the rains mean that spring is on it’s way. So it can only be a good thing.” Yukimura said, letting his eyes close momentarily, thinking of the world in spring, busy and filled with life. “Spring was always my favourite season.” he said, with a light smile. 

“I appreciate it, as well.” Yanagi added and Yukimura was struck by how still he was. He was used to Minoru’s fidgeting, and even Fuji’s miniscule movements. but Yanagi was just still, until it was time to move deliberately. It was a sort of caution and care of movement that appealed to Yukimura, a way of living that made Yukimura feel a little safer. 

He smiled up at Yanagi, and straightened a little, as he crossed his legs. “In the human world, we have a song for summer as well. Several actually. They’re not as beautiful as yours, but I liked this one.” He cleared his throat, swallowed quickly and started into the song. It sung about the girl who ran across the summer lands, waiting for her father to return home from war, and all of the things that she met along the way. 

On the finishing note, Yukimura lingered and turned to look at Yanagi, who had a wistful, fond smile on his face. The crackling of the fire filled the silence of the cabin, into something warm and happy. Yukimura picked up the root vegetable, and started to munch, as Yanagi hummed the song’s notes, softly, as if trying to learn it. 

“...would you like me to teach you it?” asked Yukimura, feeling surprised. Of course Yanagi hadn’t heard of the song, if the last human he’d been near had just wanted to meditate and build. But still, it was strange that when the dryad could sing of summer like he had last night, that he would wish to sing something so much less significant. 

“No...” said Yanagi, shaking his head. “It just sounds familiar. I cannot recall from where. Something about spring.”

Spring? Nobody used melodies like that for spring, did they? Yukimura hummed the song again, and sped it up a little, before he laughed. “Oh. The maypole dance. You know about it?”

Yanagi shook his head, and Yukimura stood up, abruptly. Oh, this was something that had to be shown, not explained He remembered maypole dancing well. He and Fuji had been altogether too good at it, though, shamefully, he had to admit that Fuji was just a smidge better. “You have to clap for me, or else it doesn’t work.” he said, solemnly and helped Yanagi set the beat, as he bounced on his toes. 

It had been four years since he’d done this. When the soldiers had danced the maypole songs last year, on their way between battlezones, he had sat on the side and clapped for them, and sang for them. but he had not danced the maypole dance since the last time that he and Fuji had seen each other. But now they would never see each other again, and to avoid it seemed stupid. He took a deep breath and started singing, his voice lower than usual. 

His feet tapped against the floor with vigour and despite his tiredness, with Yanagi’s interested clapping, and the cheerful tune of the song, he felt his dancing become more solid and his voice sounding a little louder, as he danced and danced. As soon as he finished the first song, he bowed elaborately, twirling his hands. Yanagi clapped normally, with a wide smile on his face, the widest smile that Yukimura had ever seen on the dryad’s face. He didn’t want it to go away.

“Care to dance with me?” asked Yukimura, eyes sparkling with life. The spring was in his feet and he wanted to dance it away with Yanagi.

“I don’t know how.” said Yanagi, staring at Yukimura’s extended hand, with more than a little fear. He wondered what could have caused that sort of fear in him, and Yukimura made his coaxing movements more gentle.

“I’ll teach you.” said Yukimura, softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this myself, you know.” He held out his hand a little further, and with a little reluctance, Yanagi accepted it, his hand cool to the touch. Yukimura beamed at him, as he placed one pale hand on Yanagi’s waist and the other squeezed more tightly around Yanagi’s hand. The wood was smooth to the touch, and more pliant than Yukimura would have ever imagined. 

Yukimura started singing, with a slower pace as he slowly taught Yanagi the basic footwork, and hand movements. He was a fast learner, which meant they were both dancing quickly around the cottage in next to no time at all, laughing as they occasionally bumped into each other and fumbled the lyrics in their mouths. 

Yukimura smiled up at Yanagi’s lidded gaze, and Yanagi smiled with with a contented gaze, one of the happiest that Yukimura had seen him yet. And despite the rain, Yukimura felt almost buoyant. Tipping his head back, he pulled them into a loose circle, round and round, laughing the whole way. 

-

A hand made its way upper his inner thigh, caressing the pale flesh there. Yukimura hissed and tilted his head back, as the brown hair brushed against a hickey there. “Careful.” he murmured, through lidded gaze and a sated laziness. The bed was small and creaky, and Yukimura almost tipped off the edge of the bed when a hot mouth pressed careful kisses to his hip.

“Fuji...” he moaned, as he attempted to not fall off their shared bed. His limbs ached from the dance, and his voice was raw from singing and from screaming Fuji’s name. If he shut his eyes, he could still see the stars over the hill, for once not obscured by billowing smoke. All work stopped for the maypole dance, even the factories. 

“Yukimura, you’re done already?” asked Fuji, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he crawled up over Yukimura and straddled him, with surprising strength. “I expected more from your...stamina.”

Yukimura shoved at him, playfully. “Oh, shut up.” he said, chuckling. “You weren’t the one who Minoru dragged halfway through the town to make sure her friend was definitely coming to the bonfire.”

They both turned towards the door, at a slight creak from outside, and Yukimura took a shallow breath in, holding it for as long as he could. Their house had three bedrooms. One for Minoru, a girl, one for Yuuta, who’d demanded his privacy, and one for Yukimura and Fuji, who had never minded about sharing a bed, only sharing achievements.

Fuji grinned, as he pressed down towards Yukimura’s neck, and bit down. It drew blood and Yukimura hissed with discomfort. “Stop it, you vampire.” murmured Yukimura, as he tugged at Fuji’s perfect hair, hard. Not that he was usually opposed to rough treatment when they had sex, but tomorrow he had to leave for the army and he wasn’t entirely sure they’d appreciate the several hickies everywhere. 

Fuji laughed, as he nibbled down to Yukimura’s collarbone, trailing a little blood with him. “You know who you belong to, don’t you?” asked Fuji, glancing up at Yukimura, his angelic blue eyes clouded with lust, as he peered up through his long lashes. 

Yukimura laughed, softly, as he yanked Fuji down, until he was flat on Yukimura. “And you’re mine, in return. Your hair’s mine, your chest is mine, your mouth is mine, you’re all mine.” he said, pressing a rough kiss to each of the aforementioned areas, lingering on Fuji’s lips. Fuji’s hand wrapped around his neck, and they kissed him, harshly. 

“You won’t dance with anyone else for maypole day again, will you?” asked Fuji, gently and mildly, which Yukimura recognized as his most dangerous tone.

“Of course not.” he said, tilting his chin up to meet Fuji’s gaze. “If you promise to do the same.” he said, pulling up Fuji’s slender wrist and wrapping his fingers around it, like a small cuff. They were stuck together, wound together like twine. They had lived together forever, and they would love together too. 

Fuji’s smile was frigid and cold. “But you broke your promise. You danced with someone else. That dryad may look like me, but you realize he isn’t me, don’t you? I don’t appreciate people who break their promises, _Seiichi_.” he hissed, his face filled with nothing but contempt.

Yukimura swallowed, as he realized that no, he was not actually in his town, the night before leaving for the army. This was a dream. Fuji was dead, and last night, he had been having the most fun he’d had since he’d left the army. “You’re dead. I kept my promise until you died. But you cannot expect me to continue to keep it now that I will never see you again and will never be able to dance with you again.” Yukimura retorted, with similar venom, as he pushed up towards Fuji’s face, with defiance. 

“Can’t I?” asked Fuji, his eyes dangerous, narrowed and furious. 

“No. You can’t.” said Yukimura, his jaws pulling down, as he attempted to push Fuji off him. But Fuji’s grip was strong, enhanced by the dreamlike nature of this, no doubt. “You cannot torture me with your cries that you no longer love me for my mistakes, and then say that I must still love you and be chained to you.”

His former-lover’s face pulled up into a smirk. “You mistake me for someone who follows arbitrary rules. You were never one of those people, Yukimura. Do not expect me to be, either. You’re still mine, even if you are mine to torture and mine to bleed dry.” Yukimura gasped as Fuji’s hand gripped like a vice around his throat. He started to struggle, to get Fuji off, to make sure that Fuji didn’t win. 

He refused to let Fuji win. He hadn’t as a child and he wouldn’t now, not when Fuji was wrong. “I’m not yours anymore, you’re dead, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming--” he chanted, over and over again, in a desperate litany, as he thrashed around in Fuji’s grisp. The pain around his neck increased, before everything faded to black, and Yukimura drifted through fire, and burning buildings once more, this time with heavy shackles on his wrists. 

He woke up sweating, with his mouth in a silent scream. Yanagi was at his side, for once, having not left the house and Yukimura couldn’t help but grip at his solid chest for support, as he panted and recovered. Here. He was in the real world. The countryside cottage, which he had just fixed, and had things to do around. Not in his hometown, not with _Fuji_.

Yukimura’s breath finally evened out enough so he could pull away from Yanagi and he couldn’t meet the dryad’s gaze, as he staggered up. “The rain stopped last night.” murmured Yanagi, as he stood as well, and walked out of the door. “You can go outside for your water.”

Yukimura nodded, making an affirmative noise, as he watched Yanagi’s back retreat. He didn’t want to get up, he felt so disoriented. Nevertheless, he pulled himself outside, across the wet grass to reach the well, and pump upwards. The repetitive motion and the cold helped seize him away from the fire and the feel of Fuji’s lithe fingers against his neck. 

Yanagi was completely gone, which was good for Yukimura’s composure. Shit. He wanted to die, he was so tired. But he had a lot to do today. Water vegetables, see what he could do with that tree which was probably even more rotten in its damp condition, do something about the windows, and then make a list of things he needed inside the house, in terms of furniture and living comfortably. 

He exhaled shakily, and pressed his fingers to the new calluses he was adding to his collection. His hard work was paying off. He had to keep believing that. His hard work was paying off. He was going to live well. 

-

As night fell, Yukimura stretched out his legs, massaging them lightly, as he waited for his root vegetable to cook. Oh, but he ached, and he still hadn’t written up a list of things he needed. Splitting the tree up, into useless, biodegradable mulch, and potential firewood had taken a lot of stamina and strength. There had been more biodegradable substance than Yukimura would have liked. 

As he stretched out his toes, the knock came to his door, and Yukimura waved Yanagi in, cheerfully. “Did you know that rain helps decrease the amount of splinters you get?” asked Yukimura, with a laugh, as Yanagi took a seat next to him. “Firewood collection was easier today.”

Yanagi raised an eyebrow and Yukimura grinned, as he leant forward to lightly smack Yanagi. “Don’t give me that look, you’re a tree, you can’t feel splinters, can you? But it hurts for humans!”

The dryad looked wryly amused, and Yukimura gave him a disgusted snort. “Say, Mr-I’m-a-Jerk-who-can’t-feel-pain, can you check my windows to see if you can fix them? I tried all afternoon, and I think I damaged them even more.” That was a habit that Yukimura wanted to break, thank you very much. He was getting rather fed up of his uselessness with basic fixing skills. 

This would be easier if he had the right equipment of course, like that Sanada fellow had possessed, but Yukimura was unfortunately still sickened by the thought of actual human interaction. 

Yanagi stood up, as Yukimura recovered his meal, and watched him from behind. Almost instantly, the wood tightened around the hinges, and grew together, until it looked just as healthy as the wood from the walls. Impressive. Yukimura smiled, gratefully, as Yanagi took a seat again, and leant his head against Yanagi’s shoulder. 

“Dryads seem rather multi-talented. No wonder you look down on humans. What else can you do, anyway?” asked Yukimura, ignoring Yanagi’s confusion. The dryad was comfortable, since his wooden skin seemed rather more pliable than the wood which Yukimura used to build the house. The difference between living wood and dead wood, he supposed. 

(and the part of Yukimura still stuck in the dream also wanted to spite Fuji, but the normal part wishing for comfort was just a little higher and louder)

“We are the guardians of the forest. We can do whatever is necessary to protect the forest.” Yanagi said, cryptically, and Yukimura tilted his head upwards, and made a displeased expression. He stared Yanagi down, knowing full well that he could win the contest against the supernatural being, and sure enough, Yanagi broke away first. 

“We control the plant life, and the earth around us. That is usually all I need, to be able to aid my forest. I can move my charges anywhere within my forest’s bounds, and as long as my forest grows healthy and large, I will be remain powerful.” Yanagi explained, patiently, and there was a quiet pride for his forest, hidden in his voice. Yukimura’s lips pulled up, slightly. 

It was a useful skill. And it was also good to know that Yanagi's strength depended on the forest.... “What counts as the forest? Would my garden count as part of the forest?” Yukimura asked, curiously, tilting his head to the side, swallowing a large piece of his meal. 

Yanagi shook his head. “You cultivate it, not me. I can sense the plants, and I can control them, but I gain no power by their existence an aiding them would drain energy from me, unlike aiding the plants in my forest to grow. The same goes for your house.” 

Oh. Yukimura’s lips pressed together. That was something he would have been more cautious about, had he known that Yanagi’s expenditure of energy was permanent. “Is there any way for me to be able to give you energy? Planting some trees within the bounds of your forest?” asked Yukimura, with a pensive frown on his pale face. He wanted to pay back his debts. 

Yanagi shook his head, regretfully and Yukimura’s teeth gritted together. Well, that sucked. “The laws of nature work in that way, I am afraid. All energy that is not perfectly kept within the system can never be returned to the system, since it will merely turn into heat and leave.” he said, softly, his voice quiet like the whispers of trees in the tranquil night breeze. 

Yukimura accepted this uneasily, but still, Yanagi seemed to be smiling down at Yukimura’s face. “You ask the most curious questions.” The dryad said, looking almost bemused. 

“That’s because I am curious.” Yukimura said, with a sleepy laugh, as he burrowed a little closer to Yanagi’s firm skin. “You’re a whole new species that I’ve never seen before. And you help me, despite my hindrances.”

They were quiet for a moment, an Yukimura’s eyes lazily fluttered shut. The red of the fire burned behind them still and Yukimura felt the tugging of his mind, as it attempted to slowly blink out his sensory perception, and lead him to sleep. 

“Even Genichirou did not ask those questions, the most considerate of those who lived here. You tell me that you are a violent human, but your actions now do not speak of a man who is cruel. You are conscientious, for which I am grateful.” Yanagi murmured. 

Yukimura didn’t know how to tell Yanagi that he had always been conscientious, because it was easier to ask for favours later, when people had a good impression of you in mind. It would ruin his point, and it would ruin his own healing process. He wanted to get better. So he would. 

He hummed softly, as he let his body use Yanagi as a pillow, leaning forward to get the warm mantle over his shoulders. “Will you stay tonight as well?” asked Yukimura, sleepily. “Or are you going to head back to the forest for your duties?” The dryad was not warm, but he was not cold either, and being close to him was pleasant. 

“I will stay tonight. But as spring approaches and my subjects wake, I must spend a little less time here.” Yanagi said, and Yukimura hummed vaguely in agreement, as he let his perception of the world centre down to Yanagi’s stillness and calm. The dryad may have looked like Fuji, but Yukimura couldn’t mistake Yanagi for his childhood friend in the slightest. 

He had always fought with Fuji, hand and tooth and nail and toe, until they were both scrambling to reach the top, crushing each other for the light. They had never begrudged each other this, but their relationship was based on their rivalry. However, Yukimura had no reason to fight with Yanagi. It was a mutual symbiosis, even if Yukimura still demanded more from Yanagi, and it was peaceful and relaxing. _Yanagi_ was peaceful and relaxing, and wouldn’t threaten to make life a living hell over an impulsive promise. 

They were as opposites as opposites could be, and Yukimura couldn’t have been more grateful. Was this growing up? Finding that you could live without others? Or was this simply coping with the loss he had been dealt?

-

“What would you classify as evil?” asked Yukimura as he leant forward, slightly, facing Yanagi’s firelight-illuminated face. His legs were tangled with Yanagi’s, careful to not snap off any of the growing branches. With spring coming, his legs had sprouted leaves, just like the previously dead trees, who slowly revived themselves.

Yanagi’s smile was as guarded as ever. “Evil is a human construct.” he said, softly. “The rest of the world does not see it that way. It is more simple for dryads. If you harm the forest, you are enemy. If you do not, you are a friend.”

Yukimura pulled a face, as he leant back against the warm mantle, spread out against his floor. “That’s a very black and white approach to take.” he pointed out, evenly. It wasn’t the sort of simplicity that Yukimura had come to associate with Yanagi. 

Yanagi’s eyebrows raised, as they always did when he was surprised by something Yukimura did or said. The amount of times it happened was reducing, something that Yukimura found amusing, as Yanagi got acclimated to having a human around. “I perhaps simplified it a little, but in essence, that is the crux of our philosophy.”

With a low laugh, he tipped back his head. “When I want you to simplify things for me, you never will. But when it is something I am actually interested in, you will always give me a non-answer.” Yukimura met Yanagi’s gaze with a dry smile. “Stubborn bastard.” he said, fondly. 

Yanagi just smiled, cryptically, and Yukimura’s head thudded against his shoulder, with a mock annoyance.

He had gotten all too used to having Yanagi’s presence around, over the past three weeks. Even as the forest awoke, and Yanagi was unable to come and help, nor able to stay inside the small cottage, he always came to see Yukimura in the hours before he drifted off to sleep, to speak about their days, or inconsequential things, or even large debates about philosophy. It was a refreshing feeling, to be able to debate with someone on his mental level once more. Of course, he had always had Fuji, but Fuji was like a snake, someone you could indulge, but always had to watch in case you stepped even one foot wrong. And besides, he had been starved of intelligent conversation, over these past four years. Speaking with the dryad, even for a little while was a blessing. 

The hard work he had to do was a blessing as well. It staved away too much thought about his situation and his past, as he focused simply on cleaning his house, and forming the things that he needed. He had, with the help of Yanagi, crafted a table, two chairs, and several boxes, to hold his possessions and the vegetables, once they fully grew. He had also managed to wittle down a sort of device for cooking that was more efficient than holding a stick over the fire. He used his previous army helmet as a basin bowl, to cook food in, after scrubbing the last of the colour from the metal. 

(there might have once been blood there but Yukimura had swallowed the bile that had come from that thought and had scrubbed harder)

His plants grew larger and larger by the day. The beans and the the tomatoes already looked like they were ready to flower, and soon they would give him food. He couldn’t wait to try the fruits of his labour, and his continuous hard work at weeding and watering. His hands had hardened completely, and they no longer looked like the soft hands he’d had before he’d left for the army. He had always looked like a girl, but now in increasingly shabbier clothes, with calluses and lean muscles developing everywhere from his aches, he was looking more and more sharp at the edges, to match his mental state.

He was not broken anymore. He could still function, but there were days where Fuji’s nightly whispers grew too large to completely block out, and Yukimura felt once more like he was back at the beginning again, as if nothing had changed. But those days were scarce, even if Fuji’s voice was ever present. And it was all thanks to Yanagi. 

He didn’t like being so in debt to one person. It wasn’t healthy. But yet, he couldn’t help but crave more from the dryad, even if he had so little to offer the dryad in return. 

And he had fallen silent, for a long time. He sometimes needed it, to gather his thoughts, and Yanagi, accustomed to silence, never begrudged him for it. Yukimura thought perhaps, that he was ruined for human society now. He had always been quick on his feet, and able to talk his way out of any trouble, because of his speed at adapting to human speech. But now, he took so long to think and gather his thoughts, and was never rushed for it. It was a luxury that Yukimura was always grateful for, but at the same, worried about.

Not that he planned to rejoin human society soon, but that had been his eventual end-game, hadn’t it? Still, his life had changed since he’d met the dryad, and he’d just have to change his plans too. 

“You know, I’ve finally run out of urgent jobs to do.” Yukimura, said. “My house is about as neat as it’s going to get,” He’d never been a very organized person, “And I finally have some free time.” Yanagi tilted his head in interest and Yukimura smiled, with a tinge of smugness. “I finally get to show you one of the most beautiful of the humans arts.” They had enjoyed a heated debate about the relative beauty of vocal arts, and how songs could be both destructive and beautiful. 

Yanagi lifted an eyebrow and Yukimura’s smile became positively smug. “Uh-uh. I’m only going to show you tomorrow.” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “It requires daylight for it.”

The dryad’s look was best described as exasperated, and Yukimura laughed, loudly. It was the not the high clear bells of his previously forced laughs, but lower and huskier. It was easy to relax in Yanagi’s presence and he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

“Will you stay the night?” asked Yukimura, with a yawn, as he felt the sleep and the warm fire tugging him away to sleep. Yanagi nodded, surprisingly, but Yukimura didn’t protest his luck. instead of using Yanagi’s thighs as a pillow, Yukimura tugged at Yanagi’s arm, and pulled him down as a large cuddle toy. He was uncomfortably reminded about how he and Fuji had spent most of their childhood like this, sharing the same bed, but this was different. Where Fuji had been soft, squishy and shorter than Yukimura, Yanagi was logn. lena and hard to the touch. Breathing in the smell of the forest around him. Yukimura drifted off to sleep. 

Somehow, he found himself back in his childhood home. They were children, and while he and Fuji were supposed to be doing their lessons, neither of them particularly felt like it, and were instead playing a game with Minoru and Yuuta. Minoru and Yuuta were both building card houses, and while sitting on their hands and not moving their hands. Yukimura and Fuji had to try and blow down their opposite siblings’ card tower, so that their sibling could finish first. 

It was a cruel game in hindsight, but it had been one of their favourites, when they were young. Children were cruel, no matter what people said. Yukimura let out a tired sigh, instead of blowing constantly like Fuji was, and Yuuta’s entire, fragile card tower collapsed. Yuuta glared at the remains, before standing up, with a scowl on his face. “This is a stupid game!” he shouted, stamping his foot, before he turned and ran from the room. Minoru’s mouth dropped open, and she abandoned her tower instantly, to chase after the older Yuuta. 

Yukimura sat back on his heels, with a slightly sorrowful look. A part of him was tempted to go and chase after Minoru and Yuuta together, but Fuji would follow then, and Yuuta would join in the torment. Yukimura wasn't sure he could take that. Yuuta had always gotten angry quickly, but he never stayed angry for long. Yukimura could take Fuji’s hatred, because it was normal for their relationship, but he couldn’t deal with Yuuta’s hatred. 

“You let Minoru win.” said Yukimura, evenly, without any tone to his voice. 

“Would I?” asked Fuji, with a perfectly crafted smile, and Yukimura just returned it. They both knew that he would, and it would be for some undeniably cruel reason. For all that Fuji claimed to love Yuuta unconditionally, it was the sort of tough love that Yukimura had never been able to bring himself to apply to Minoru. Perhaps because she was eight years younger than him, instead of just three, or maybe because she was a girl, but their sibling dynamics were very different. 

“It was cruel. Yuuta rarely wins anything.” Yukimura, said, shrugging. “And Minoru would have cheered for whomever won.” She was a happy child and a kind one, unlike her mother and brother. He loved her all the more for it. 

“You leaving Yuuta was more cruel. This at least, is reversible.” said Fuji. With every nightmare, Fuji let less and less of the memory play, before he started ripping Yukimura to pieces. It hurt a little more to have a small child-like Fuji coldly tell him that he was worthless, which was of course, why most of his memories were now of the past. 

Yukimura exhaled, heavily. “I can’t find him again. I can’t even function around most humans.”

“You deserve it.” Fuji said, without humour. “You deserve all of that pain. Yuuta’s all alone and you’re just sitting here, enjoying yourself. He doesn’t even know we’re dead. Think of the stack of letters that he’ll be sending home, waiting for our responses, and feeling disappointed when he gets nothing. The painful loneliness of silence from the people he once called family. And he’ll sit at that government building until one day he can’t stand it anymore, and in his fury, he’ll come to to confront us. And on that day, he’ll walk back, to the burnt ashes of the town, to where he once used to play--”

“Stop it.” snapped Yukimura, harshly, stepping forward to grip Fuji’s wrists and shake him. It was the first time that he’d made the first offensive move, and it clearly shocked Fuji. Yukimura took his chance and glared down at Fuji. Yukimura had always been taller than him. 

“You think that I don’t feel cripplingly guilty? Because I do. And I would give up my life in a heartbeat if it meant that I could bring back you and Minoru. But I can’t change the past. And I can’t be useful to Yuuta if I’m an emotional wreck. So yes, I am hiding away and giving myself good memories, because these past four years have been hell on earth, and _I_ have been the reason and I need to love myself somehow, or I’ll just stop living.” Yukimura said, quickly and with venom.

 

If Fuji had always been able to get to him, it had been the opposite, as well. He wouldn’t just take this anymore. Fuji’s face contorted into something filled with hatred and Yukimura let go of Fuji’s wrists reluctantly. 

“Can’t you just forgive me, Fuji? Can’t my memories of you be happy? I do love you. I have done so, and a part of me always will remember you.” he asked, quietly, with dignity. 

Shaking his brown hair, Fuji sneered. “I can’t ever forgive you. I’ll haunt you forever. I died and it was your fault.” The fire returned, and the forest he had burnt to the ground came in front of him. In place of the soldier who’d first realized that the forest was going to explode, there was the small child Fuji, staring straight into Yukimura’s eyes as he went up into flames. 

“Your dryad cannot look at you the same way, either.” whispered Fuji, as Yukimura jerked awake, finally. His skin was clammy, and his breathing was hard. Yanagi, who was still there and still awake, looked concerned at Yukimura’s sudden jerk upwards, and pulled Yukimura inwards. His fingers ran over Yukimura’s skin, smoothly and softly, in reassuring circles. Yukimura had to swallow several times, but his tears emerged either way, as he shook uncontrollably and held the front of Yanagi’s chest, in a death grip. 

The great thing about having a tree spirit as a friend was that he didn’t have to worry about hurting him with his tight grip. Yanagi’s hands smoothed over Yukimura’s head, and when Yukimura didn’t still, he softly started to sing. It was not the joy of summer, nor the business of spring. It was something more beautifully sad, but old and filled with calm and peace. It was a song which one had to be perfectly still to appreciate, and Yukimura calmed himself and tried to forget the image of the child on the pyre he had lit.

He fell into a dreamless, deep sleep, clinging tightly to Yanagi.

-

He woke up once more, blinking himself out of the mire of the deep, still wrapped tightly around Yanagi. “Morning.” said Yukimura, his voice hoarse, as he pulled himself away and rubbed blearily at his eyes. Yanagi’s lidded eyes traced him around the room, as Yukimura quickly swept the dust from the fire back into the fireplace, before running outside for water. The dew spotted the grass outside, and Yukimura smiled, as he re-entered the house for breakfast. 

“Will you be able to come back when I call soon? I’d love to find a nice clearing or something in the forest to show you my art?” asked Yukimura, as he messed around with his hair. It was so coarse, he noticed for the first time. He hadn’t really paid attention to how he washed himself, except to get rid of dirt, but he definitely wasn’t keeping up his appearance as much as he usually did. 

Yanagi nodded, serenely and Yukimura waved him off, before his face fell. Stupid, stupid, stupid, why had he asked Yanagi to stay? Whenever Yanagi stayed, he would always see Yukimura at his weakest, at his most vulnerable. How were you supposed to cultivate a proper relationship with someone when you were weak in front of them, but they were rarely weak in front of you?

Still, Yukimura mused, as he pumped another large bucket of water and started to scrub at his hair with more vigour, at least today he’d be able to show Yanagi something that he was genuinely good at, other than killing and watering plants. Painting had been one thing he’d not just beaten Fuji at, he wiped the the floor with Fuji when it came to paintings. 

Fuji’s arts were more into the real world, in weaving and sculpting and three-dimensional arts. Yukimura had no doubt that both Yuuta and Fuji would have been good at carving the chair and table, unlike Yukimura and his pitiful attempts at making them symmetrical. Yukimura succeeded here, however, in a manner that few others could really touch. As he slicked back his damp hair, and tied it away from his face, Yukimura approached his pack, and pulled out the cloth-wrapped bundle, with almost reverence. He spread it out on the table and felt himself take an intake of breath at how perfect the paint-blocks still looked, despite the long voyage. His paintbrushes looked a little dented, but they were manageable. His smaller details were always made with the corner of his finger or the tip of his hair. 

He pressed the tip of one of the paintbrushes to his face and smiled. Yes, he felt good about this venture already. Having already created the framework for the easel a couple of days ago, using some whittled wood, Yukimura unrolled the large scroll of parchment and worked on the arduous task of stretching the parchment across the easel. Really, this was a two person job, but he didn’t want to call Yanagi back just yet. With a final grunt, he managed to attach the last of the cloth to the easel and grinned, with accomplishment. It had only taken him something close to an hour. 

Taking one of the large wooden slats, the easel set-up and his painting set, Yukimura marched out to the edge of the forest. “Yanagi?” he called, cheerfully. 

Very quickly, Yanagi reappeared, and raised an eyebrow at Yukimura’s current status as pack-mule. “The most beautiful art of carrying things?” asked Yanagi, dryly and Yukimura snorted.

“Very funny. Take me somewhere pretty, please.” He stepped forward, authoritatively and Yanagi touched a hand to Yukimura, and instantly, they were elsewhere. Yukimura felt quite disconcerted, but tried not to react beyond some frantic blinking. Oh, Yanagi had taken him somewhere phenomenal. They were on a large peak, where only a few trees stood, and filling the skyline, Yukimura could see the world extending beneath his feet. The farms and the industrial towns huffed and puffed their labour, further away from his vision, but closer by, the plants and the green, green grass waved gently, in a light breeze. 

Yukimura smiled, helplessly. Yes, this was perfect. He set down the easel set-up, planting it firmly in the slightly damp ground. He then gripped the slat between his knees to slowly turn it into a mixing palette. “You should come back in the evening.” Yukimura said, as he started to smear small parts of the pain across the palette. “The process of this is boring, but the end result is much better.”

Yanagi made no sound in affirmation, which meant that he had left. Yukimura hummed to himself as he gripped his paintbrushes, and started to slowly observe the view down. When Yanagi had only experienced older humans and the meditating handyman Sanada, he most likely would not have had experience with painting. Unless that was something dryads did themselves. But Yukimura doubted it. 

Painting wasn’t something universal across all species, not like music and community dance were. Painting felt like the human desire and restlessness to capture one perfect moment, instead of the whole world as it came. It reeked of human discontent, but despite that, it was one of the most beautiful things in the world, because those stolen snapshots of a world that you may have never seen, or may never see again, invoked emotion and depth of thought, unparalleled by any other artform. 

With some broad brushstrokes to set down the initial colours, Yukimura sunk himself into his artform. Painting in a non-controlled environment was a race against time, as you struggled with lighting, shifting people and clouds and your own waning concentration, Still, Yukimura was one of the best, and picking up the paintbrush again was like attaching a part of his hand back to him, a part he hadn’t realized he’d been missing until now. His hands and his control over colour felt a little rusty, but he had all day to alter and change his clouds, to reflect the sunlight, until it reached a point where he was satisfied with its looks. 

It was easy to just tune out the entire world, focused solely on just what he could see and feel from the environment around him, and focused on transferring both aspects onto the paper in equal amounts. A balance of sorts, which was rare in his other hobbies. Gardening and War were both absolutes. There was a victory and there was a loss. There was no sense of balance, no sense of being able to learn from mistakes, because it dealt with lives. The high-stakes didn’t allow for someone to truly become a master. They just allowed for someone to be good and ruthless at what they did. 

At least in song and dance, it was another balance, between emotion and the technicality of just hitting the notes or doing the dance moves correctly. Perhaps it was the expression of emotion that allowed for balance? Still, the act of killing another individual was nothing if not emotional, right?

...well, Yukimura mused darkly, lifting his paintbrush from the easel, it was only really now that he associated war with emotion. When he had been embroiled in the war, he had been morbidly fascinated and very happy when the enemy died, but he had always been most efficient when he had just not cared about the outcome. When he had been colder and less emotional, that was when his largest successes had happened. 

His mind had been clear of any pesky emotions, in that battle before Niou’s death, when they had slaughtered so many men that the blood had taken a week to wash out from their trousers. And he was always fairly emotionless and calm when he gardened. He wanted his plants to live, of course, but he rarely associated the plants with anything but peace and a blissful sense of calm.

Painting could be calming at times, but the best paintings were when he felt something for the subject matter, or had felt something when painting. Like now. 

It was nearing sunset, when Yukimura finally felt content with the tiny details of the landscape. The lighting had changed a grand total of five times, and every time, Yukimura had redone everything, but he was finally happy with the afternoon scene depicted in the picture, practically glowing with how happy and alive it looked. 

With a yawn, Yukimura turned around and slowly packed up what he could. “Yanagi?” he called, inbetween a wide, all-encompassing yawn. His shoulders were cramping and his legs too, from standing in the same position all day. He felt colder too, now that he thought about it. The breeze had been rather substantial near midday. 

Yanagi was there almost instantly, and Yukimura really envied that ability. It would save him a lot of time and a lot of walking. Still, if he was confined to the limits of his forest, it would be difficult to live vicariously. “Hey, is there a way for a human to turn into a dryad?” asked Yukimura, curiously. It was nice to have options, if he ever really got tired of walking. 

Disappointingly, Yanagi almost looked like he’d been expecting a question like that. “No.” he said, shrugging. “At least, not that I know of.”

“So how are dryads made anyway?” asked Yukimura, curiously, leaning back to try and stretch out his upper thighs. “Can they be born from two dryads?”

Yanagi shook his head, almost regretfully. “They show up when a collection of trees and plants reaches a certain population count. Their size, strength and abilities depend on the size of the forest they patron. We do not know how or why we are formed, though we have attempted to theorize. We do know, however, that we predate humans and we used to defend from all sorts of natural destruction, rather than destruction of this sort.” he explained, with the same lilting, calming tone that Yukimura had grown happily accustomed to. 

Nodding, Yukimura straightened and smiled. “Today’s a beautiful day.” he said, softly, and stepped aside to show Yanagi the image of the forest tapering outwards to the sky and the drop down below. Yanagi was quiet as he stepped forward and touched the mostly dried paint of Yukimura’s paint, an almost childlike wonder in his eyes as he examined it. 

“How?” he asked, finally, as he turned around, curiously. 

Yukimura grinned, widely, in response to the sheer excitement that seemed to come from the old dryad. It was a new emotion from him and Yukimura revelled in it, soaked it in. Could use this. If he needed an extraordinary favour... but, he reminded himself, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this, he was beyond his days of manipulating and using people to his favour. “Certain plants have berries or leaves that have pigments. We use those pigments from the crushed berries and leaves, then used a fixative inside egg yolks in order to keep the colours bright. A little bit of water added to these pigments helps spread them, and we use their colours in order to mimic the environment. Or in some cases, make up things entirely.” Yukimura explained, remembering the way that his teacher had explained it to a curious Minoru. 

The sheer astonishment and wonder as Yanagi looked at Yukimura’s dirty palette and the easel was something so satisfying to Yukimura’s heart, in a way that he hadn’t even realized that he’d craved. 

“Do you like it?” asked Yukimura, swallowing heavily to make his voice sound less hoarse. “It’s yours to keep, if you do.”

“Yes.” said Yanagi, after a long pause and the small, hopeful smile on Yanagi’s face was like coming home. “I do like it. A lot. Thank you.”

And for the first time, Yukimura felt like it was more of a relationship of equals. 

-

“Are you seeing this?” asked Yukimura, with delight, as he slowly picked off the reddened and perfectly ripe tomatoes from his garden. Yanagi was perched on the well, watching as Yukimura slowly harvested the mushrooms, tomatoes and beans that had managed to spring up so quickly. “Oh, it’ll be good to eat these.” said Yukimura, with a warm smile towards the dryad. 

It had been a long time since he’d worked with vegetables instead of flowers, and he felt anxious about screwing this up somehow. but here it was. Just two of his vegetables had had to be discarded because of insects and as he carried the box back to his house, filled with fresh produce for the rest of the week, he felt happier than ever. 

From now, he would be able to eat properly, instead of just limiting himself to two meals of just a couple of pieces of fruit. His stomach was growling in anticipation, especially from the sweet smell of the tomato, and Yukimura couldn’t resist just picking one up, and biting into it, giggling slightly as the red juice poured down his neck and chin. 

He licked the corners of his mouth, and laughed at Yanagi’s bemused expression at that. “Would you like one?” he called to the dryad, his mouth pulling up without him even trying. Yanagi refused, instantly and Yukimura rolled his eyes. “You can eat, you told me about your dryad dances and the food you exchange there! And this time you won’t even be stealing food from me, I have plenty to spare and spring is here!” he said, arguing quite passionately for his cause. 

Yanagi started to shake his head again, but at Yukimura’s dangerous smile, he meekly accepted one and bit into it with a lot more care than Yukimura had. “It’s good.” mumbled Yanagi, tilting his head a little at the flavour and Yukimura smiled, with genuine happiness. 

Yanagi paused midbite and stood up abruptly, as he turned back to the forest. Yukimura followed his footsteps with his hands, then dropped his box carefully and sprinted after Yanagi. “What’s the matter?” asked Yukimura, gripping Yanagi’s hand, the moment that Yanagi switched locations. The unexpected nature of it left Yukimura reeling, clutching his head, momentarily. 

Yanagi’s lips pursed, as he bent down. “Something is not right. Something is here which doesn’t belong.”

Doesn’t belong...Yukimura paled. A hunter? From the town underneath them? Still, they would have had to either fight through the thickest part of the forest that was close to the human village, or pass by Yukimura’s house before they could reach the forest. And if they had crept past his house, he or Yanagi would have noticed. He crouched down to the earth, and pressed his ear to the ground, but Yanagi had already found where the disturbance was coming from. Yukimura sprinted after him, deciding that he didn’t want to get lost in the forest again, without his guide.

“Go home.” Yanagi said, his voice cold. To anyone else, it would have seemed forbidding, but Yukimura had been in the position of commander himself, and he wasn't _good_ at following orders. 

“Would if I could, but I’d be more likely to get lost and die by pissing off some bea--” he paused at the sight of a large, monstrous bird, with a huge, long beak, and wide, terrifying eyes. “That is a tengu.” Yukimura said, with more than a little shock. He had been of the impression that those didn’t exist. Then again, he’d thought that dryads hadn’t existed. His count of mythological beings had increased by one. 

“You are not supposed to be here.” Yanagi said, as vines and roots rose from the ground to envelop the tengu in an elaborate cage. Yukimura’s eyes widened as he turned to watch his friend. Well, that was a reminder to not anger the oft gentle dryad. He couldn’t underestimate his capacity for violence, and the dryad was so much more powerful than he was....

The tengu cried, long and mournful, up towards the sky and Yukimura peered forward, looking at it with a little more attention. The bright red plumage had been hiding it, but now he could see a little better, there was a large red blossoming of blood dripping from the tengu’s chest. Tengu weren’t immortal, and could easily die from wounds. Wasn’t their death a bad omen, anyway? “Yanagi, he’s injured.” he called, softly. “Don’t do anything hasty.”

Tengu had a reputation for being tricksy and doing anything to try and get the perfect joke. Still, would they stab themselves? Or would they use an opportunity of being stabbed to trick someone else? Well, whatever happened, the tengu was at the mercy of Yanagi anyway, which meant he and Yanagi could make a deal to avoid that. Tengu were also bound to keep their promises. 

“If you do not harm me or my dryad friend in any way, or attempt to trick us in any way, I can help out with that wound.” Yukimura said, his voice soothing and gentle, as he darted forward. Yanagi looked displeased with the sequences of events,but Yukimura held a hand backwards, asking Yanagi to wait, just a little. Thankfully, the dryad followed directions. 

“Help me!” cried the tengu, its voice breaking. Yukimura felt very sorry for it, but...

“Promise me, first. Then I’ll help you.” Yukimura said, firmly. His safety first, even if every part of him felt that he had to redeem himself even a little by saving this life. 

“I promise to not harm or trick you or the dryad.” said the tengu hastily. “Help me, help me, I’m going to die!”

Yukimura turned to Yanagi, and the cage slowly retreated, the vines snaking away with an almost reluctance. Yukimura instantly moved forward to asses the damage. He was no healer, but he had picked up a lot from Yagyuu. Avoiding the large, sharp beak, Yukimura pressed his hands to the sides of the wound. Oh, it was bad. 

“Yanagi, I need some turmeric leaves. And my pack, from the cottage, with the bandages.” Yukimura commanded, as he pressed his hands to the wound, applying pressure to try and stop the blood oozing out. “Water too! A clean cloth from somewhere.” he shouted, and almost instantly, Yanagi vanished and returned. Impressive. 

“Turmeric first. Crush it for me?” asked Yukimura, and the sound of something being slowly crushed made him wince. “Pour it into his mouth NOT the wound. This will help reduce the pain.” Yukimura instructed, as he pulled the disinfectant from his kit. Yanagi followed his directions quickly and efficiently. The tengu looked quite surprised, but sat back at let Yukimura dab the stinging substance across what looked like a stab wound. 

It didn’t even cry out once, and when Yukimura was finished, he gave the tengu a weak smile. “Well done.” he said, soothingly, even though his own heart was pounding. “I can’t stitch something this large together again, but I am going to bandage it and protect it from outside elements. Your body should heal by itself with enough energy to sustain you.” he explained, calmly, as he dipped the bandages in the water that Yanagi had given him.

He slowly shifted the tengu more upwards, and silently, the vines provided an open support for the tengu, so Yukimura could reach all the way around its centre. Yukimura smiled, to himself, as he started work on the arduous task of pulling the bandages tight across the wound, applying as much pressure as he could. The sooner that the blood clotted, the easier the recovery would be, was what Yagyuu had always said. Yukimura’s first and last attempt at bandaging up what should have been a fatal wound had not gone well, despite that advice, and the sight of Niou’s sweaty and pale face welled up in his sight.

No. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t start panicking, because then the tengu would certainly die. Clear mind. Focus. He could do this. 

With one last tug, Yukimura tied the knot over the bandage and leant back. Alright. Okay. “Drink this water.” Yukimura ordered, as he wiped the blood down his overalls. He’d wash that later. “What do you eat?” That had never really showed up in Yukimura’s memories of tengu mythos. 

“Fish.” panted the tengu and Yukimura pulled a face. He didn’t eat meat, not anymore. He didn’t want to hunt for one. Besides, he didn’t even think there was a river near here, for there to be fish to get.

“Something else, we’re nowhere near the coast.” Yukimura said, impatiently. 

“Sweet fruit.” gasped out the tengu and Yukimura turned to Yanagi, his wide in appeal. Yanagi didn’t even look like he’d moved, but several yellow fruits, like those of which Yukimura had sustained himself with for more than a month, appeared in his hand and he handed them to the tengu, who pounced upon them, fervently. 

Yukimura stood up, as he wiped his brow of sweat and glanced up at Yanagi. Yanagi looked down at him, with a calculating look. Yukimura smirked in return, before turning back to the tengu. “Recover quickly and fly away. You do not belong here, I am afraid.” he said, seriously. 

The tengu finished scarfing down the fruit and turned to Yukimura, with a nod, its unnerving eyes settled solely on Yukimura’s visage. Yukimura tried to not let his discomfort show on his face. “I am ready to fly, do not worry. But before I leave, I must ask you a question.”

Yukimura nodded, and the tengu’s beak pulled up into an unnerving imitation of a smile. “What human has such power over a dryad, I wonder? Are you really a human, at all?”

With a scoff, Yukimura pressed a hand to his mouth. “I have no more power over my friend than he does over me. You presume too much.” he said, with a smirk to his lips. In reality, Yanagi was much more physically proficient, and Yukimura didn’t really stand a chance if Yanagi truly attempted to fight him, but they were friends and Yanagi trusted Yukimura’s judgement. Still, tengu were solitary creatures and he didn’t expect them to understand the nuances of friendship. 

The tengu tilted its head, before laughing and springing into an uneven flight. Yukimura let out a breath of relief as the red spot careened away into the blue vastness and disappeared from sight. Yanagi’s gaze was on his back and Yukimura blinked, as he turned to meet the lidded gaze. He had never felt uncomfortable like this before, but then again, it had never felt like Yukimura had just taken a test of vital importance. 

“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“You would make a good dryad, Seiichi.” said Yanagi finally, as he offered a hand to Yukimura, and took them back to the outskirts of the forest near Yukimura’s house. 

Yukimura stared at Yanagi, but before he had could demand further elaboration on either point, Yanagi disappeared into the trees again. Despite the compliment, Yukimura couldn’t help but wonder if he had failed that test. 

-

To Yukimura’s surprise, Yanagi still showed up at his small cottage at the end of the day, after Yukimura had finished eating a delicious stew, cooked in his helmet. Yukimura wordlessly made room for him, from where he usually curled up in the floor and Yanagi took it. Cautiously, Yukimura leant his head on Yanagi’s shoulder, and when Yanagi didn’t dislodged it, Yukimura went back to his usual routine of using Yanagi as a large cuddling toy. 

There was silence for a long while, before Yanagi cleared his throat, uncomfortably. “There’s nothing about a human being able to become a dryad.” he said, quietly, with an almost defeated sigh. “I...you really would have made a very good one.”

Yukimura smiled sadly, and let his eyes flicker shut. ‘That’s alright.” he said, softly. “I don’t need to be a dryad to be able to do things for you.” Besides, keeping himself human meant that there would be a chance, if he ever became less disgusted by the idea of meeting humans again, to be able to go back and find Yuuta. 

The red of the fire illuminated his eyelids, and Yukimura started to hum softly, feeling warm and comfortable, and full of food, for the first time in a long time. “You are truly a bizarre human, Seiichi.” Yanagi said, after a while. 

“Good.” Yukimura said, cheerfully, noting the usage of his first name, once more with something close to surprise. He’d explained the significance of names in human culture to Yanagi and Yanagi wouldn’t use that name without careful thought. It was just the way that the dryad was. “Since I know how normal humans behave, I am quite happy to be rid of them, Renji.” he murmured.

Yanagi smiled so fondly when Yukimura opened his eyes and glanced up at him, that Yukimura couldn’t help himself. He pushed himself upwards and pressed a small, chaste kiss to the corner of Yanagi’s mouth. 

The dryad’s fingers went up to touch his mouth. “Seiichi?” he asked, and Yukimura couldn’t help but feel a stab of happiness. Yanagi didn’t know what they were. The previous inhabitant of this house hadn’t fallen for Yanagi. 

“They’re signs of affection.” Yukimura said, blithely. “Kisses. Mostly mouth to mouth, but I can kiss you anywhere and it will mean affection of some sort.”

Yanagi just nodded, and held him a little closer. Yukimura smiled and leant in a little closer. “Tengu aren’t friends of dryads?” he asked.

Yanagi shook his head, his fingers tightening a little. “Just me. I do not like their antics. Some dryads are more accepting of them which is why tengu are known to be inhabitants of forests and mountains.” There was a story in there, but Yukimura decided to leave it for later. The reason for Yanagi’s dislike for tengu could not have been so great, since he had easily allowed Yukimura to heal the tengu. 

“So you allowed me to heal it anyway?” asked Yukimura, curiously. 

“It got rid of it without death, and fairly rapidly. You did well. Better than I would have alone.” Yanagi said, solemnly. He sounded rather like he was berating himself, if Yukimura listened carefully to the tone, and Yukimura almost rolled his eyes. 

“That’s what a partner or a team is for. To help you gain another perspective,or to be able to aid where it is not possible for you.” said Yukimura, softly. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

Yanagi was quiet again, which Yukimura took as a sign that he was still beating himself up. With a fond sigh, Yukimura pulled him down into the pile of blankets. He felt like perhaps kissing Yanagi again, under false pretences, but for a moment, in the light, he looked altogether too much like Fuji. _You do realize that dryad isn’t me, right?_ whispered Fuji’s voice in his head and Yukimura couldn’t keep up his pretence. He had taken pleasure in lying to Fuji and Fuji had done the same, and they had pushed each other to their limits-- but they had understood that. Their relationship had always been like that. Yanagi had never done anything of the sort. Yanagi had given him unadulterated trust, because of Yukimura’s perceived goodness, and Yukimura, who was trying his hardest to not fall back into what he had been, just couldn’t lie to him. 

“It’s romantic affection.” said Yukimura, quietly. “Kisses to your cheek.” he said, pressing a soft kiss there, “mean friendship. But kisses to the mouth mean romantic affection.” He placed a finger against Yanagi’s lips fleetingly, and pulled away, quickly. It felt rather like he was sealing his fate to being forever tied to Fuji, but he couldn’t lie. 

Yanagi was quiet. “I see. And kisses elsewhere?” he asked, quietly?

“Reserved for a lover.” said Yukimura, with a small shrug, as he buried himself into Yanagi’s chest and shut his eyes. The crackling of the fire and the wind howling outside was soothing enough to ignore his mistake for a little while. 

“Humans are quite strange.” murmured Yanagi, letting Yukimura come close to him. “Thank you for telling me.”

Yukimura should have tried to sleep then. But he wasn’t quite sleepy enough yet. “...and how do dryads show affection to each other?” he asked, murmuring the words into Yanagi’s chest, and letting the vibrations act for him. 

Yanagi shook his head, briefly. “We don’t. All dryads love each other equally, and we know it. There is no requirement to show affection, since we do not show more affection or less affection to one person, like humans.”

How curious. Yukimura exhaled, a little incredulously. “Doesn’t that get lonely?” he asked, as he wondered how the world would have be if everyone liked each other equally. It meant that there would be no wars, yes, but there would be no meaningful relationships, no one who Yukimura could pour affection into. It would have no nuances. He preferred what humans had, in any case. 

“Doesn’t the violence of human hatred get tiring?” asked Yanagi, rhetorically, and Yukimura scoffed, dryly. Oh, he didn’t like being wrong. Well, neither did Yukimura, not really, but he let himself lose this time. No point starting an argument over something trivial like this. There were negatives and positives to both forms of existence, that much was obvious. 

“Always. But love makes up for it in many ways.” said Yukimura, with a final tone in his voice as he let his eyes flutter shut and tried to tune out his clamouring mind. No he wasn’t going to think about how much he’d screwed up he was going to think about simpler things. 

“...I’ll think about it.” murmured Yanagi, after some time had passed, and Yukimura should have logically fallen asleep. Still, he was still awake, and the sentiment made him smile, fleetingly, before he really did try to sleep. It was the best he was going to get, and that was enough. 

Regardless of Yukimura’s own personal feelings over the matter, Fuji didn’t seem to agree. 

They were seated on the rooftop again, where they had spent so much time. This time, Yukimura could see the flower crowns in their hands, from the day before Yukimura’s mother had died, when he and Fuji had picked all of the flowers from the gardens, in order to appease their destructive natures.

“Can you not let me have any happy memories?” asked Yukimura, with a sigh, as he looked down at his feet. They were sixteen in this, not so young after all. “Your smile today was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen.”

“It’s when you first fell in love with me.” agreed Fuji, and Yukimura turned and stared at Fuji, with a vague frown. He didn’t ever remember telling Fuji that, and surely Fuji hadn’t been paying that much attention. 

“Yes...” Yukimura said, vaguely, glancing out towards the hilltops and the peaceful, sunset sky. Even the world seemed calm and blessing, not revealing to Yukimura how much strife would be ahead. “Take me elsewhere, I want to keep the memory of your happy smile forever.” he said, turning to the phantasm of Fuji. 

Fuji turned to him, his porcelain face serious. “You cannot escape me, Yukimura. I was beautiful and cruel, and you must accept that.”

Yukimura scoffed, darkly, as he leant back. ‘That I know all too well. In a week’s time, you will prove that. The bruise from your slap lasted for a whole month, you know.”

“You always bruised easily.” Fuji said, with a sly smile. “Besides, you treated your mother’s death like it was nothing. You were distant at times, but never unemotional. It wasn’t natural.” Yukimura frowned. It was the most placid Fuji his mind had ever conjured, and his heart was in his throat, waiting for the inevitable attack. 

“I shut myself down. I don’t think I ever opened up again, not until you two died...” Yukimura whispered, with a low dread. “I acted like I was better, but it never really happened. And then you and Min and thousands of soldiers paid the price.”

Fuji’s smile was sad, sadder than they had ever been in these dreams. “I know. I know, Seiichi.” he said, softly, as he gently reached out to stroke Yukimura’s shoulder. Yukimura stiffened and Fuji’s hand pulled away, with a light laugh, tinkling like bells. The laugh he always made when he wanted to hide his embarrassment. 

“Do you really love him? That dryad?” asked Fuji, opening his eyes and looking Yukimura in the eyes. Yukimura swallowed and shrugged. 

“Maybe.” he said, noncommitally and Fuji smirked, lightly. 

“You think that I am the projection you conjure in your mind. I’m not cruel without reason, Seiichi, you forgot that. You created something of me that wasn’t accurate and you made yourself afraid of me.” he said, his words cutting and slowly enunciated. “I don’t know whether your foolish guilt over this incident or the disgusting caricature you made of me is worse, frankly.”

Yukimura stared at Fuji, for a few long moment, before he dived forward and tugged Fuji into a deep hug. Instead of biting him or anything that his dreams would have done, Fuji returned the hug, as Yukimura held him tightly. He could feel the scent of the daisies being crushed between them, but Yukimura no longer had the energy to care. “I’m sorry.” murmured Yukimura, as he held Fuji’s face in his hands, as if Fuji was like a delicate treasure. 

Fuji pressed forward to kiss him and it was the first gentle kiss that Yukimura had ever received from him. He savoured it, as Fuji pulled away and crossed his legs. His memories would not be able conjure up something he had never experienced...which was, of course, Fuji’s way of telling him that he wasn’t just dreaming. 

“Minoru?” he asked, sternly. 

The brunet just leant forward. “You first. Yanagi. Is he right for you?”

And his subconscious projection of Fuji had never called Yanagi by his name. “He’s everything you’re not.” said Yukimura, with a light laugh, not feeling the need to fight, not now with the little time he had with Fuji. “Despite that, or perhaps because of that, I can only love him.” 

“He is not human.” countered Fuji.

“Which is exactly what I needed. Non-human company. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, but I found it.” Yukimura retorted, crossing his arms across his chest, as he tilted his head up. “Minoru.”

“Well. I can’t say much, but she’s fine and misses you.” Fuji replied, just as rapidfire, his face set into a serious expression, rare for both of them. “I know you can’t right now, but please go see Yuuta. Please tell him. Check up on him. Look after my brother, because I cannot.”

Yukimura exhaled, as he glanced down at the crushed flower petals that filled their laps. “I...”

“When you can. It’s the least you can do.” Fuji insisted and Yukimura finally nodded, with a determined look. It was what he’d been planning on anyway, but now he’d promised Fuji, there was no way to weasel his way out of it, at some later point. The prospect of it scared Yukimura, down to his very bones, because he couldn’t bear to see Yuuta hate him. But even Fuji didn’t seem to hate him, not really, which gave Yukimura some hope.

“Will you tell Minoru that I love her?” asked Yukimura, as the cold breeze drifted past him, making his shoulders clench up. 

“She knows. She knows already, you needn’t worry about that.” Fuji assured, his face turned off towards the distance.

“Tell her anyway. For me.” Yukimura insisted. “Because I will never be able to tell her again.”

“I know.” Fuji murmured, and there was regret in his voice. Yukimura exhaled, as he lifted the crushed petals, to throw out to the wind. Fuji’s eyes tracked his actions and he met Yukimura’s blue eyes after a while. “Does he love you back? The dryad?”

Yukimura shrugged, as he ripped the petals to pieces in his lap, avoiding Fuji’s lidded eyes. “I have my inklings. He has affection for me, in a way he does not for his fellow dryads and he does the impossible for me. But he has this catch in his tone when he speaks of this Sanada who used to live in my house. Like Sanada is this precious person, and he never speaks much about him, and I wonder whether I will ever dent that.”

Fuji seemed to consider something as he looked at Yukimura, before lightly smirking. “The challenges of loving someone who is a millenia old. Can you accept that you will always be second to someone who is long since dead?”

The answer came easier to Yukimura after that challenge, as it always had. “Just as in my mind, I will always have you. But I think we can cope anyway. Nevertheless, I will leave that choice to him. There is no use in rushing a creature who has lived for millennia.” he said, lightly and Fuji laughed, with a bitter tone to his voice.

“He and I are truly different to you, hmm?” Before Yukimura could say anything, Fuji scoffed, softly. “Don’t forget me because he is better suited for you.” There was something of a threat in there, but Yukimura felt more at ease because of that.The Fuji he remembered was possessive to a point, and this weird acceptance didn’t quite align with how Yukimura had seen him. 

“I will never be able to forget, not even if I live for an eternity.” Yukimura promised. “Syuusuke--”

“You’re going to ask me if this is real or not. If I imitate your new love, I would say: whatever you believe, that will be the truth.” Fuji said, his voice uncannily like Yanagi’s and Yukimura snorted at how odd that sounded from the boy’s mouth. When he looked, there were more differences between Yanagi and Fuji’s faces. Fuji was tighter, more pinched, and his skin was paler. Yanagi also lacked the air of speed around Fuji, the air that made Fuji a sharp, quick and lacerating person. Where Fuji was sharp, Yanagi was soft, and that was perhaps the major difference in their looks and their personalities. 

“If you were you?” he demanded, reaching forward to tug at Fuji’s hair, in the same petulant manner he had done as a child. 

In response, Fuji just smirked and pushed Yukimura off the roof.

Yukimura gasped as he woke up, his heart bumping in his chest from the sensation of falling. The fire had long since gone out, but Yanagi's soothing arms were around him, smoothing down his unruly hair. Yukimura relaxed in Yanagi’s grip, and tried to steady his breathing, remembering the passive Fuji he had seen in his dream and how sure he had been that Yanagi loved him. The thought made him smile and he pressed closer to Yanagi;s chest, to inhale the scent of trees and sap. 

A small kiss pressed to the top of Yukimura’s head and well, that was the dryad’s decision right there, just as Fuji had predicted. Smiling sleepily, Yukimura pressed a kiss to Yanagi’s neck, before letting his eyes flutter shut, to return back to his dreams.

-

Laughing slightly, Yukimura clicked his tongue again. The small deer finally stopped being more interested in the butterflies around his cottage, and clattered her way to Yukimura, before collapsing at Yukimura’s feet, her feet not being able to support her. Yukimura stroked her side, carefully, marvelling at how docile she was to the motion.

“She’s not afraid at all.” he commented to Yanagi, who was watching, with a quiet amusement, from a further distance. 

“Of course. She has not seen a human in her life. She has no reason to be afraid.” Yanagi explained, carefully, as a large squirrel ran over his shoulder and decided to stay there. 

“But her mother is a lot more cautious.” Yukimura noticed, tilting his head at just how far away from Yukimura and her calf she was, even though she seemed to stutter forward, every now and then. “She has had bad experiences with humans?”

Shaking his head, Yanagi ran his own fingers down behind the mother’s ears, as a means of relaxation. “No, but she is old enough to be conditioned to run at the sight of strange things. The herd fear is what keeps most animals alive, you know.” he said, patiently. Yukimura felt a little like a child, but he knew very little of animals. He and his mother had grown plants and plants alone. He had only ever seen animals from afar, and they had been farm animals, like pigs and chickens. Things like deer, squirrels and rabbits were foreign, in many ways. 

One thing that was universal however, about all animals was-- “Oi, away from my lettuce.” Yukimura said, sternly to the two bunnies, who had hopped dangerously close to his vegetable garden. They wouldn’t understand him, but his tone was enough to send them scarpering. The deer in his lap looked up curiously at his loud voice and Yukimura increased his petting, to make her stay. 

“But she doesn’t mind you because she knows you are the guardian of the forest, despite your human appearance.” Yukimura hazarded a guess and Yanagi nodded, looking a little surprised. Yukimura decided to go a little further. “Then... you’re attempting to introduce me to the newest animals of your forest, so that they will know me as a guardian, as well, despite my being a human.”

The surprise in Yanagi’s stance only increased and Yukimura let out a short laugh, feeling pleased. “It’s obvious in hindsight.” said Yukimura, coolly, as he finally go of the deer, so she could return to her mother and reached out from the slightly scared rabbits. One fled, but the other lingered just enough for Yukimura to pluck him off the ground, and stroke him. “It’s what I would do if I had a protege.” What he had tried to do with Kirihara, before his eventual dismissal.

The dryad raised an eyebrow, slowly, with a certain skepticism to his look and Yukimura, unable to resist that little challenge, stood up, carefully deposited bunny #2 on the ground, and stalked up to Yanagi. The squirrel and the birds around him scattered but Yukimura paid it little mind as he poked Yanagi in the chest. “Are you not the one who said I would make a good dryad? Then, don’t be surprised when I think things similar to you.”

Yanagi smirked, lightly and Yukimura pressed up onto his tiptoes to kiss him him, softly. It was different to a human kiss, cooler and less wet, but overall, still enjoyable, in a different way. Not for the first time, Yukimura was glad that Yanagi’s skin was smooth and rounded, so it was impossible to get splinters from the dryad. That would have been a difficult injury to treat. 

The dryad returned it, gently, before calling the birds back, his voice imitating the sounds of flight and speed and beauty of birdsong in the morning. Yukimura wondered if he could imitate that at all, so he too could call the birds to him. Still, he wasn’t quite sure his mouth could even form the same sounds.

He would have to settle with being a bird perch, he mused, as several robins and sparrows came to rest on him, their beady eyes watching his face with cautious interest. Yukimura coughed slightly and tried to trill. The attempt was a miserable failure, and a couple of robins departed, but the other birds merely looked unimpressed. If it was even possible for that to happen, when birds had neither mouths nor eyebrows, the typical emotion expressors on a humanoid face. 

“I’m trying.” defended Yukimura, wondering why he was feeling like he was being judged by a bunch of birds, and why their judgement seemed so effective. Yanagi seemed to be suppressing laughter and Yukimura glared at the dryad. “Don’t you laugh. You try _chirping_ with human vocal chords.”

This broke the dam, and Yanagi outrightly started laughing. it was a beautiful sound, like water running and Yukimura felt his mouth pull upwards, despite his slight irritation with Yanagi. The birds on his hand all took flight, and soared upwards towards the sky, with sheer joy and Yukimura felt lighter, just sitting here. He hadn’t had a nightmare with Fuji since the day he had saved the tengu. Perhaps now, he could remain happy, here in this simple life. 

He had things to do, of course. His cottage still wasn’t perfectly functional, and he still only had two sets of clothing, things that could only really be fixed by a civilized human. And someday, he would need to leave this idyllic land and head back to the city, to track down Yuuta. But sitting in the evening light, watching the dryad laugh and the animals rejoice, those problems seemed as far away as the stars. 

As the slightly chilly breeze started to blow, and the orange light started to seep into the sky, Yukimura stretched upwards to his toes, yawning a little. “I’m going to get started on food now, Renji.” he said, to the dryad. “Come whenever you can.”

Yanagi just nodded and Yukimura retreated to his cottage, reaching for the boxes of fruit and vegetables gathered in the corners of the kitchen, tossing the ones that looked the ripest into his stew. He started the fire and started to chop the necessary vegetable, as he slowed doled out water. Cooking was not something that Yukimura had been particularly talented at, but that had mostly been due to lack of interest. 

Necessity was the mother of invention, after all, and now that Yukimura needed to cook, he was improving, slowly but surely. Experimentation with fruits and seeds and spices helped Yukimura create edible, and increasingly tastier substances, a far sight better than his previous lack of knowledge. As he ran through the easiest of the motions, his mind wandered. 

He was happy here. Really. His dreams sometimes still showed him fire and war, but Fuji no longer tormented him with his own guilt, and his waking life was tranquil. He worked with his garden most mornings, sometimes followed Yanagi on his duties through the forest in the afternoons, or just sat to paint things outside his cottage or in new areas of the forest. It was a happy life. His sister could be content with that.

And being able to stay with Yanagi, and run his hands down the dryad’s skin, feeling the texture of the different branches and leaves and the way he felt, as well as have intelligent conversation with someone who wasn’t human, was priceless. It was something indescribable. 

As a child, he had never thought he’d be content, not even with ruling the world, but now, he barely had clothes and a cottage, and he felt better than ever. Was this why even the greatest war leaders retired to a small country village, after their exploits? The peace was like nothing else in the world. With a slightly soft smile, Yukimura finished the soup and set it to stew, as he cleaned the cottage quickly, brushing the scraps of vegetable peel to his compost pile, and ridding the place of dirt. by the time he finished the stew was ready, and Yukimura sat down by his fire, as per usual. 

The knock at his door sounded and Yukimura grinned, easily. “Tucked in all of the animals?” he asked, teasingly. 

Yanagi looked confused and Yukimura realized that his joke would have flown right over his head, considering dryads didn’t need to sleep and he hadn’t been around any human children. Ooops. “Don’t worry,” dismissed Yukimura, as Yanagi took a seat next to Yukimura. “Stupid joke. Are the animals alright?”

Yanagi nodded. “Sleeping, most likely. Though the nocturnal animals come out around now, so when you sleep, I will have to go and see how they fare.” he explained. Yukimura nodded, as he blew on the hot stew to cool it and took a few sips. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help the fact that he needed to sleep. Staying awake wouldn’t be good for him, even if he did want to meet the nocturnal animals as well. 

“It seems like spring is a busy season, but you enjoy it anyway.” Yukimura murmured, around a mouthful of vegetables. He enjoyed spring because of the feeling of new life, but when you had to catalogue and look after all of that new life, he thought it would get tiring after many years. 

“It is better than having nothing to do in winter.” Yanagi replied, and Yukimura could tell what he was thinking underneath that. Without the life of the animals and the plants, the dryad was lonely during the long, cold winters. Well, if Yukimura had anything to say about it, Yanagi wouldn’t be lonely again.

Yukimura leant his head on Yanagi’s shoulder, reassuringly. “You’re like me then. I always hated being idle. I always needed something to do. Though nowadays, I seem to spend a lot of time doing nothing.” Yukimura said, dryly. 

The dryad snorted, as he leant back. “You planted a garden, fixed this entire house, painted four pictures, filled the house with furniture, and you say that you have done nothing?” he asked, skeptically. “Even Genichirou was slower than you.”

 

Yukimura smiled, smugly. “I asked for help.” he said, simply, as he finished off the broth. “Of course I was going to do things faster with you on my side.” He took a lot of contentment from being better than Sanada, and his mood was reaching high levels. He went to place his cup inside the barrel of water that he used to wash things in, and laughed as he glanced up at the orange light still trickling past the wooden slats in the window. “The sun’s still out, how strange. The days are getting longer.”

Yanagi’s face was confused and slightly worried. “It was dark outside, when I came to your house.” he said, as he stood up. Yukimura pushed the window open, with confusion and stared in horror at what he saw. Behind him, Yanagi groaned, loudly, but Yukimura’s eyes was transfixed on the scene in front of him. 

“Something is wrong with the forest. Everything hurts.” Yanagi said, his voice pained. 

“Fire.” Yukimura said, as he watched the orange yellow glow ravage the green lands beneath his feet. Shit. 

He turned around to look at Yanagi, whose face was cold. “Come, let’s go.” he said, extending his hand to Yukimura. “We’ll get water from the river and put it out.” The trees would be burning, no wonder Yanagi was hurt. And the more trees burnt and died, the less power Yanagi would have to do things. It was prudent to hurry, but...

His gaze fell back to the human village, burning, and he wondered whether there were children trapped in their houses, trying to sleep and coughing on the smoke. “Go stop the fire from spreading any further. I’m going to go and help put it out at the source. If the humans haven’t gotten it under control yet, they will not get it under control.” Yukimura ordered, with an apologetic look on his face.

Yanagi’s face was unreadable as he disappeared but Yukimura was sure that the underlying sentiment was disappointment. But he didn’t have time to muse on things. He grabbed two of his boxes and ran to the pump, pumping with as much speed and vigour as he could, trying to fill the boxes with water, fast. Once they were full, He grabbed both of them and sprinted down the pathway, careful to not trip over anything. 

The fire illuminated his path, and Yukimura wondered how something so destructive could look so beautiful from afar. He shuddered to himself and hurried his pace, trying to spill as little water as possible.

The path to the village was foreign, and without the blaze, he would have been unable to find his way down to the village, but he followed the light and found himself quickly close to the burning houses and the people fleeing and screaming as they went. The smoke filled the place, and Yukimura had to lifted his shirt and hook it around his ears, to help his breathing. He grabbed someone as they ran. “Where are the able men of this town?” he asked, sternly. 

“Over there.” she said, pointing vaguely towards one edge, but loosening his grip on her and fleeing. Yukimura’s teeth gnashed together, and he wondered what he was doing here, when humans were so selfish and out for their own skin. He ran towards the directions he had pointed nevertheless, and threw his water at one the the burning houses that a few people were gathered at. They gave him a look and Yukimura glared back at them.

“What are you doing? Go to your well, and get water and put this out!” shouted Yukimura, as he grabbed his buckets and made to run back. 

“You have a well?” asked one of them and Yukimura felt his blood run cold. These people didn’t have the water to put out the fire, no wonder everyone was fleeing...

“Yes, I live up on the mountain, my well works just fine.” Yukimura said, with a nod. Quick thinking, how did they manage to transport all of his water from up there down to here in time to be able to stem the flames...? Having Yanagi here would be useful, but then again, this was out of the bounds of his forest, and Yanagi had enough to deal with inside of his forest. No, Yukimura had to deal with this himself, and the fastest way he knew required teamwork...

“Gather as many people as you can. Bid them to make a spaced out line between this town and my house on the hill. I’ll pump the water from my well, and we can pass it down to the village, quickly. Tell them to bring their own buckets and boxes, I haven’t enough to spare for the speed that we must have.” Yukimura barked, as he adjusted his shirt over his face and started sprinting back up to his house. 

He knew no one and to assume command in his usual manner would be presumptuous, so Yukimura left the summoning of people to the men of the town, who knew each other well, while he sprinted back upwards, back the way he had come. It was a more difficult run uphill, but with determination pumping in his heart and the nightmarish images of the village on fire, Yukimura forced himself upwards and onwards, past the stones and the mud, which attempted to slow him. 

Hurtling past the gates to his house at breakneck speed, Yukimura arrived at his well quickly and started pumping again, ferociously, focused on his task. He had to do this well. He had to do this well. When he finished pumping, he grabbed the boxes again, and started the sprint back down the hill again. His muscles screamed in protest, but Yukimura forced himself to think of the broken bodies of his sister and Fuji, and his pain faded somewhat. 

He met the large crowd of people halfway down the hill, passed the boxes to them wordlessly and started to sprint back up to his house. He heard the sounds of people following him, at a running pace as well, and as Yukimura started to pump again, there was a large line of people slowly spreading down the mountain. Three other men helped Yukimura pump faster and with more force, 

The rest of the night passed in a haze of pumping and passing water, the sweat rolling down his back and the companionship with the three other men who were working with him. Every time his body came close to giving in, Yukimura thought of Fuji and Minoru and the men he’d burnt alive in that forest. He couldn’t give in now. Not when Yanagi was fighting just as hard, elsewhere. Not when he could perhaps prevent the tragedy that had happened to him. 

He pumped the water until the glow of the fire dimmed, and dimmed, and finally faded altogether. The whisper came up the line slowly but Yukimura and the people at the top had already stopped pumping water, by the time the last lick of flame had vanished. His muscles trembled and everything ached, but at least he was firmly awake. There was no desire to sleep just yet. 

With a weary sigh, Yukimura wiped the sweat from his forehead and shook hands with the men he’d been working with. “Should I come down to check on the town with you?” asked Yukimura, with a tired smile. 

“That would be helpful.” said the tallest one, and the four of them jogged down the mountainside, past the weary people who slowly traipsed down it, talking with each other in despairing tones. Yukimura didn’t say anything to the men as they brushed past the large crowd outside the destroyed town and and Yukimura paused in front of the rubble. 

“There are people inside!” shouted one of the men that Yukimura had initially seen, and a young woman, who was shifting beams with a very rapid turnover rate, glared at them. 

“Well then? Hurry up!” she demanded. Everybody followed, Yukimura included. His muscles screamed at him once more, demanding rest, but he apologized internally, thought once more of Minoru and started to shift the wood and rock from around the area. 

-

It was dawn by the time that Yukimura left the company of the town and jogged his way back up to his cottage. By now, his eyelids were drooping and his body was very close to just collapsing where he was. But he had one last thing to finish. Reaching the top with difficulty, Yukimura dragged himself towards the forest.

“Renji?” he called, loudly. “Renji?”

There was no response, no person next to him and no sort of indication that the forest was even alive. The animals that should have been waking now were absent and Yukimura’s face paled. He stumbled through the forest, as quickly as he could, looking for the dryad. 

It was possible he could get lost and never find his way out, but he had to find the dryad, quickly, and he trusted in his fate to be able to do this much for him. After some wandering, Yukimura chanced upon the scent of burning flesh. He followed it, quickly and his throat went dry at the sight.

The forest was torched to the ground. The surviving trees around this area were scorched, with black residue left up their side, and layers of their bark burnt through. The ground itself was blackened and burnt, as if it would never be fertile again, and in front of Yukimura, was complete desolation. There were not evens stumps left, where the trees had once been, and when he stepped forward, he felt the crunch of animal bones. 

In the centre of it all, Yanagi’s head was bowed, where he knelt, helplessly. Yukimura quickly made his way to Yanagi, trying to ignore the bile rising in his throat as he stepped over the scorched remnants of the land. How much weaker was Yanagi now, he wondered? He placed a hand on Yanagi’s shoulder, swallowing heavily. “How many?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“12 birds, 23 small rodents, 48 trees, 168 smaller plants, countless insects.” Yanagi recited, dully, as if he was hollow inside. Yukimura exhaled, shakily and fell to his knees as well. That wasn’t a large number in the long run, but all at once, it was devastating. “You?” asked Yanagi, though he didn’t sound particularly interested.

“12 humans dead, 18 injured. All of the farm animals they had are dead.” he said, letting his eyes flutter shut. It was too many. Too many lives lost to fire. “Less than the fire that claimed my family.” he murmured. But, of course, this time, there was not an army cornering people and making people afraid to work together and put it out. 

Yanagi was silent again, and Yukimura squeezed his eyes shut. He seemed to be looking out to something in the distance that Yukimura couldn’t see. “How did it start?” asked Yanagi, dully. 

“A baker’s daughter placed the wrong fuel into the fire. The fire reached their ceiling. She was frozen in place and did nothing. By the time that she noticed, the fire had already spread to four more houses and it leapt between them too quickly. Thatch and wood are not fireproof like the houses of the city... The girl had instantly died and the families of those first houses were the most injured. ” Yukimura explained, remembering the story he’d been told by the younger brother of that baker’s daughter. He wondered how many lives could have been saved had her carelessness not endangered them.

Yanagi made a sorrowful gasp, that sounded suspiciously wet. Yukimura, biting his lip, surged forward and pulled Yanagi into a tight hug. Yanagi’s head collapsed on his shoulder and he shook with tears, as he held onto Yukimura’s tired limbs. Yukimura felt the tears prick at his own eyes. They both could feel what had been lost, both between them and to the world in general. 

The day dawned, and unhappiness reigned in the scorched deadlands that had once been the pride of the forest.

-

“Please, have a drink, I insist.” said the tall man he’d pumped water with two nights ago, whom he now knew as Yamamoto, as he ushered Yukimura to his table. Yukimura had taken the arduous task of returning everyone’s buckets to them, once he’d slept for a full day, and despite the contact with humans, he hadn’t been as repulsed as he’d expected. Perhaps the situation which had forced his initial interaction had made it easier or perhaps Yukimura had stopped blaming humanity’s flaws for Fuji and Minoru’s death. This had been the last house, so he let himself be steered into the small house without protest. 

The man took a seat opposite him, his lined face clearly weary, as he moved the two arguing children from the kitchen towards the well covered fireplace. Most people were more careful now, Yukimura had noted, in all of the houses with fire. “We can’t thank you enough.” he said, hoarsely, as he poured out the contents of his flask into two pitchers. “Had it not been for your offer of help and your quick thinking, so many more would have died.”

Yukimura shook his head, as he accepted the cup. “It’s what anyone would have done.” he said, lowly. 

“They want to hold a feast in your honour, once we get a bit more back into sorts.” said the woman who was rolling out dough on her table. “You’ll show up, won’t you?”

A feast? Yukimura’s eyebrow raised. “Don’t bother, I won’t show up even if you do. You don’t even have enough water to wash and cook with. Don’t waste it on something as trivial on a feast for someone who didn’t do something that great.” Yamamoto looked close to arguing, but Yukimura held up his hand. “You saved yourselves. I just pumped a lot of water.” Apparently he hadn’t lost his touch with humans and how to interrupt them. 

“Well, there must be some way to repay yo--” Yamamoto was cut off by the woman banging loudly on the kitchen table with her rolling pin. Yamamoto fell silent quickly and Yukimura smirked to himself, slightly, hiding the motion by taking a sip from his cup. The beer was well made.

“You live on the mountain by yourself?” asked the woman, who must have been Yamamoto’s wife. 

He knew what she was trying to do and while it was a kind gesture for humans, Yukimura didn’t appreciate it in the slightest. “I am hardly alone, up there. I am surrounded by wildlife and the animals from the forest. But yes, there are no other residents of my cottage.” he assured, quietly and firmly, with a plastered smile on his face. 

“Wait, you really really live in the ghost house?” asked one of the kids, looking surprised and Yukimura outrightly snorted at that, carefully trying to not inhale the alcohol and waste it. 

“There are no ghosts there. Just me.” he said, with a laugh. “I’m scarier than ghosts, you see.” He winked at them conspiratorially and the two children collapsed into laughter. 

Yamamoto watched that exchange, looking slightly amused. “We were all quite surprised to see the fire burning there every night, especially when no travellers had stopped by the village since autumn. Most believed that the ghost of the previous tenant had returned...” he said, with a dryly amused look.

Yukimura smiled again, feeling a little embarrassed. “I didn’t stop by the town when I journeyed here a little more than two months ago. I didn’t feel the need to, and the place was abandoned, so I figured that I could stay there.” he shrugged, before he licked his lips, carefully. He wanted some knowledge about Sanada that Yanagi wasn’t willing to give him, anyway... “The previous tenant?”

“Yes. Sanada Genichirou, one of the best warriors this town had ever seen.” Yamamoto’s wife explained, as she formed small balls of dough from the well-beaten mixture. “He went away to the forest to meditate and reflect on how to improve and how to stay humble.”

So even Sanada had known the evils of war? Yanagi had never mentioned that--or perhaps Sanada had never talked about his previous war experiences with the dryad. That was plausible. Yukimura wouldn’t have mentioned it either, had his guilt not been pressing at him. 

“He built the house after just sitting in the forest got him ill, and it was an effort of labour. he didn’t let a single person help him, supposedly.” continued Yamamoto’s wife, as the bread started to cook over the fire. “They say his guilt from his war days made it so he could not even look at anyone else, as he felt himself unworthy of even meeting their gaze. He never fell in love for the same reasons. But he was a protector for this village before that.”

Yukimura nodded, softly. Perhaps had he really met Sanada, they would have understood each other. Still, they had been affected in different ways by the ravages of war. Sanada had blamed himself, while Yukimura not only blamed himself, but also blamed the rest of the world. They would not have been able to help each other, that was for sure. It was for the best that he had encountered Yanagi, the dryad. 

“Yeah, he was a total hero, like Captain Yukimura!” piped up one of the children and Yukimura’s face paled, rapidly. What?!

“Can you repeat that?” he asked, faintly, to the child. 

“Captain Yukimura! You know, the one who singlehandedly orchestrated the defeat of the foreigners from the West Sea! And brought our country glory!” said the taller of the two children, looking rapturous. Yukimura felt like vomiting. He had wanted this, that was the worst part. A year ago, this would have been the ultimate dream, to have children say his name and want to be him. Now, he would rather disembowel himself than listen to anymore.

“Find a better hero.” he said, harshly. “Don’t idealize someone who burnt an entire legion alive for the sake of glory, and fame. Men like that are dangerous and should be feared, not placed on a pedestal. Find a hero who saves lives, not takes them.” His shoulders shook and the two children suddenly looked like his statement about being more scary than the ghost was less of a joke to them. 

The two adults exchanged looks and he faked a shaky smile. “Sorry.” he apologized to the children, as he ran a hand through his blue-black hair. “But there are so many better heroes than warriors. Find someone else.”

The children nodded and scampered away. Yamato’s wife gave him an analyzing look. “You know, you never introduced yourself.” she said, quietly, and Yukimura hoped that she wasn’t trying to be subtle, because that was the worst transition to another topic he’d seen. 

“Fuji.” he said, automatically, with a slight laugh. Saying Yukimura after that outburst was asking for trouble. 

Yamamoto’s mouth widened. “Like Governor Fuji Yuuta?”

G-Governor? When had that happened? Yukimura shrugged, trying to keep the cryptic smile plastered on his face. When had small, grumpy Fuji Yuuta become charismatic enough to become a governor? Had he been absorbing some of the charm that Yukimura and Fuji had used to utilize in their lives?

“The Fuji Yuuta that recently made a speech about the tragedy of death, culminating with tears over the death of his entire family, including Fuji Syuusuke, General Yukimura and Yukimura’s little sister?” asked Yamamoto’s wife, looking quite pleased with herself. Yukimura, despite himself, felt backed into a corner. Never mind, he was far more rusty with human interaction than he had ever really expected. 

“Perhaps.” Yukimura said, as if it was a big not-so-secret that they were in, rather than a major slip-up on his part. 

“Well, between us...” murmured Yamamoto’s wife, “Since that speech, he’s been quite depressed and has managed to pick up a coterie of all-advised vultures, who want to shape his policies away from the people. Mizuki Hajime is beating them away, of course, he’s had his claws dug into Yuuta for ages, but he’s not strong enough to withstand the onslaught. It would be good if he had someone to trust around him.” She spoke with the confidence of a gossip, and sounded quite matter-of-fact as she checked the baking bread. 

Yukimura nodded, as if this was fascinating gossip about someone whom he didn’t know, rather than someone who was like family. Yuuta... “How interesting. Politics is always interesting for those who watch, rather than those who play.” he said, as he finished his mug of beer, quickly, seeing the sun slowly start to tinge the sky orange. He had dallied too long here. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I really must go home, now.”

Yamamoto looked surprised. “Stay for dinner, I insist!” he said, tapping the table, firmly. Yukimura shook his head, smiling charmingly. 

“I would if I could, but I have duties to tend to back at my house.” Yukimura declined politely, as he stood and bowed, lowly. “Thank you for your hospitality, however.”

Yamamoto’s wife pursed her lips and pulled out some of the bread pieces, wrapping them in a large piece of cloth. “Here. I know you don’t have bread there, at least take this with you.”

With a warm smile, Yukimura accepted the bread, without a word. He would have been a fool to turn that down, he hadn’t eaten bread in so long. He waved to the two of them, before he departed their small cottage. The town still looked slightly damaged, as the builders in the community slowly worked on redaubing the walls and clearing the area where the fire had occurred. Some waved at him as he passed by, and Yukimura nodded to them, feeling just a little wonderous at the respect they were giving him.

It was harder to be resentful of humans when they treated him like this. He trekked his way back up the mountain, cradling the warm buns in his arms as he went. His mind was filled with uneasy sentiments about the human world, and he didn’t want to dwell on them, not now. 

As he drew close to his cottage, a small bird landed on his arm, trilling cheerfully, as if nothing had happened since their last meeting. As if the fire had not decimated a major part of the forest. Still, he supposed the impact of that event was lesser for birds, especially if they had not been near the fire. “Hello.” Yukimura said, smoothing one hand over the feathers cautiously, smiling as the bird chirped at Yukimura’s touch. Still, if the bird was here, that meant...

Yukimura ducked into his cottage, smiling at the sight of Yanagi inside his cottage, staring at one of Yukimura’s paintings once more. “At this point, you should just paint one yourself. I would be interested to see what you do.” Yukimura suggested, as he placed the buns inside one of his boxes. 

Yanagi turned around, his face relaxing upon seeing Yukimura. “You’re late.” he said, his lilting voice concerned. 

“The humans kept me, sorry. They refused to let me leave quickly.” Yukimura said, as he reached forward to light a fire, humming as he quickly did so. It was too late to try and cook anything like a broth, so Yukimura grabbed a couple of vegetables, along with a bun, and started to munch, loudly, as he sat inbetween Yanagi’s legs, feeling the dryad shift behind him. 

After a pause, Yanagi sighed, and pressed a kiss to Yukimura’s head. “I worried.” he said, and Yukimura smiled to himself, feeling ever so fond. “There were a million possibilities of ways that you had died and a billion more about how you could have injured yourself.”

“But I‘m here now.” Yukimura murmured, as he leant back against Yanagi, happily, finishing his dinner as quickly as he could, so he could get to the important part. He polished off the warm bread, as he licked his lips of the crumbs, before twisting around in Yanagi’s grip and pushing Yanagi down, gently, until they were tangled together on the blankets on his floor. 

Yanagi pressed a kiss to Yukimura’s lips without prompting, and Yukimura smiled into it, as he carefully tangled his fingers in Yanagi’s hair, letting his thumb rest across the leaves sprouting from Yanagi’s neck. Yanagi’s hands slipped around Yukimura’s back and they kissed again, and Yukimura thought that he could stay like this forever, away from all of the troubles of the world. Just here with Yanagi’s solidness against his chest and their gazes locked on only each other.

“You are troubled by something.” said Yanagi, quietly, as he pulled away from Yukimura’s attempt for a third kiss. “Your shoulders are tense.”

His lips parted for a moment, before Yukimura exhaled, with annoyance. “It’s not important. Kiss me again.” he lied, wanting to lose himself a little in Yanagi, and perhaps help Yanagi’s own misery about the fire incident. 

“But it is.” Yanagi retorted, as he pulled away from Yukimura and sat up. Yukimura stayed where he was, as he tipped his head back and groaned. Yanagi was stubborn. He wouldn’t see an end to this until he talked. He was stubborn also, however, he could probably outlast Yanagi if he tried. But if he was honest, he had sort of wanted to discuss it with somebody he trusted. 

“...My entire family didn’t die in the fire that ruined my life.” Yukimura said, quietly. “My younger brother survived, because he was not in the same city at the time.” It was easier to call Yuuta his brother than delve into the way that he and Fuji had been tied together, without actually being blood related. Easier to say brother than talk about the love-hate relationship that they had, how Yukimura had wanted someone else to suffer like him. 

Yanagi nodded. “And that brother is in trouble.” he said. Yukimura’s mouth pulled up to one side, wryly, as he placed his hands behind his head. There was just no hiding things from Yanagi. 

“The humans say that he is surrounded by betrayers and people who could hurt him or cause him to hurt the country. He needs someone he can trust. But he believes that I too died with the rest of our family, so it seems that there is no one but the false people who whisper in his ears.” Yukimura said, wearily. “They will take advantage of his grief, because it is what any clever person would have done--what I would have done--and Yuuta will suffer for that.”

Yanagi’s face was serious as he glanced at Yukimura, his eyes flickering open for once, so Yukimura could see the brown, soothing irises. “Well, I think we both know what you need to do then, don’t we?”

Yukimura squeezed his eyes tightly together. “I don’t want to leave.” he said, quietly. “It was easy to talk to these humans, but they are grateful to me for saving their lives, they do not wish to anger me. I am not sure I can deal with the worst of the human world to rescue my brother.” he mumbled. He had been rusty, even with these kind people. How was he supposed to navigate through the world of politics sufficiently, when he was so unused and disgusted by them?

Yanagi’s hand sought his, and squeezed it, tightly. The dryad seemed to be peculiarly calm about this, when Yukimura wanted to throw things and scream about how unfair life was. He hadn’t wanted to make this trip for some time, but now his hand was forced. Yukimura had not yet spent a whole season with Yanagi yet. “When it becomes trying, think of me. Think of the birds and the forest and the life here. You are strong enough to do this, I think.” Yanagi said, his voice evoking the very images he described, by how calm he was. 

Yukimura felt his eyes moisten a little, as he placed his free arm over his face, buying his eyes in his elbow. “I can’t be the guardian of the forest with you, can I? Humans aren’t supposed to.”

There was a shaky laugh from Yanagi himself and Yukimura tilted his head back, bitterly, glancing towards the red glow of the fire, and the warm heat against his face. Frustrated or not, he had to go. He had promised Fuji to go and find Yuuta, and now he was going to fulfill his promise. With a heavy groan, Yukimura pulled himself up until he was sitting to face Yanagi. “Look after my garden, Renji. Because I’ll be back. You mark my words, no matter how long it takes, I’ll be back. Just make sure that you are as well.” he said, clenching his jaw in determination.

There was a resigned sort of look in Yanagi’s eyes and Yukimura frowned. “Even Sanada came back after his illness, didn’t he? Trust me. I will return. But you have to remain, until I can return.”

“I will remain, as I always have.” murmured Yanagi and Yukimura looked down. 

“I’m going to leave tomorrow, then.” he said, quietly, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the plant mantle that Yanagi had made for him, oh so long ago. “Better be fast, who knows what will happen to Yuuta if I don’t hurry.”

“I wish you luck, then. May you fly faster than even the eagle.” Yanagi said, his tone serious. No, his last day with Yanagi couldn’t be like this. Yukimura shuffled forward, until he was straddling Yanagi’s lap and was reaching up to kiss Yanagi. “Kisses are also considered good luck in human culture.” murmured Yukimura, against Yanagi’s ear. “Give me all of your luck, please.”

Yanagi’s brown eyes met his blue eyes and finally, the dryad nodded, his mouth tugging upwards with anticipation. Yukimura twisted his fingers in Yanagi’s hair and they clung to each other for the rest of the night. The fire eventually died out, and reluctantly, Yukimura’s eyes fluttered shut from sated exhaustion.

For the first time since he had arrived there, he dreamed of Yanagi, not Fuji. 

-

Rubbing at his eyes, Yukimura adjusted his boots and tightened the cloak around his shoulders. The wind was bitterly cold against his face and it threatened to worm its way into the rest of his body as well, through any open crevice it could find. His hands were not protected enough in his gloves, Yukimura mused, darkly. 

He didn’t remember it being this cold when he had been here last winter. Then again, he had arrived near the end of winter, rather than right at the beginning of the cold season, when the leaves first began to die. And now, he had just spent half a year inside the warmth, rather than four years of travelling outside no matter what the weather was. Still, he wasn’t happy about the fact that his toes were freezing as he trekked his way uphill, past the familiar village. The fact that the forest still seemed to be intact made Yukimura smile. At least they had listened to that much of his parting words, on the day that he had departed from this place. 

He wondered whether the forest had ever recovered from that fire, whether Yanagi was strong once more, if even by a little bit. He had considered once, during the long, boiling summer, about leaving the capital and heading back to Yanagi, or even sending someone to check on the forest, but he had always decided against it.

Visiting the cottage himself had been impossible, with just how much he had been forced to finish around Yuuta, and sending someone else felt rather too much like betrayal. He didn’t want anyone else to spot Yanagi, anyway. The dryad was all his. In his own way, Yukimura was just as possessive as Fuji had been. 

He had missed Yanagi’s cool, analysing nature and the eager nature to help and explain, when he had been surrounded by frustratingly useless politicians. It had been a difficult to force himself to do what his previous self would have done, in order to pull Yuuta away from the mess and prop him up to be a strong leader, but he had done it. He had just wished that Yanagi had been there to soothe Yukimura’s aching heart about the morality of his decision to try to emulate his previous self, even slightly.

He _had_ dreamt of Yanagi, but they had never been as vivid as his conjurations of Fuji had been. Yanagi had never spoken to him lucidly, and the replays of their memories together played out to the end. It was both a relief and a disappointment, to have lived through peaceful nights. 

He wondered now, as he clambered upwards, higher and higher, how different things would have been had he not gone to war. It had always been a choice, after all. When the war draft had come, Yuuta had already gone to do his duty in government, and only he and Fuji had been left at home. One of them had needed to stay and look after Minoru and the flower business, and both were equally qualified to do either. So they had flipped a coin, and Yukimura had lost, and had gone to the army. 

Had Fuji gone to the army, would he too be climbing up to see Yanagi? Yukimura almost laughed to himself, that was far too unlikely. He doubted that Fuji would have ever been the type to chase for pointless glory. And Fuji had loved family, he would have returned home after his first war had ended. Even if he hadn’t done so, even if he had been driven by glory...when Yukimura and Minoru perished together, he would have gone straight to Yuuta, for he would not have been repulsed and afraid of humans. And so Yanagi would have always been alone. 

He missed Yanagi, so thinking of Yanagi being forever alone just hurt. To his very core. It had been what had shaped his life inside the capital, as “Governor Yuuta’s Aide”; why he was even here, when Yuuta hadn’t really stopped needing his political advice. Yukimura had just managed to set up Yuuta to survive for a few months, before things would start getting tricky again. 

But that had been all that Yukimura had wanted. 

He was reminded of a myth he and Fuji had been told by their tutor, as he saw the top of his house looming above him. There had once been a young, beautiful girl, whose mother had been the embodiment of prosperity and fertility, and had spoiled the girl with everything she could possibly want. But this girl had fallen in love with death himself and wished to spend her life with him. Her mother, furious by this development, tried to pry the girl from her lover, but in a compromise, the girl said this: six months she would spend with her mother, and six months she would spend with death. So in those six months that the girl spent with her mother, the earth rejoiced and blossomed, but whenever she departed to stay with death, the world too died, temporarily, until the girl returned once more. 

Was he the girl now, he wondered, as he had traipsed away from his family to spend his winter with his lover? But it was for a different reason, in any case. He remembered how Yanagi had once mentioned his loneliness during the winter months, with the expression that would always break Yukimura’s heart when he looked at it. No matter how much Yuuta needed him, Yukimura knew that Yanagi needed him more in winter.

So he was here. Home sweet home. Yukimura pushed open the still too-creaky door to his cottage, which was barren of light and food. The table and the two chairs still remained, as the large piles of empty boxes, and in the corner, the plant mantle that Yanagi had given him. It was shriveled and brown, but that was alright. He had warmer clothes given to him by the people in the capital, and if it was necessary, he could ask Yanagi to make him another. 

Yukimura dropped the pack filled with new, foreign seeds on the floor, smiling faintly as he looked around the familiar corners of his house. He inhaled the smell of unpolluted air, smiled widely, before turning away from his cottage and headed for the forest.

“Renji!” he called, knowing that he would receive the answer he wanted from his choice. He was home, even if only for a while, and he could not feel more hopeful. The living trees rustled in response, and his face split into a warm smile as he ran towards his future.


End file.
